


Muffin Personnel

by ruinReborn



Series: Muffin Personnel [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinReborn/pseuds/ruinReborn
Summary: A collection of ficlets revolving around a Free Company based unwillingly in the Goblet.
Series: Muffin Personnel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045479
Kudos: 16





	1. Gigas and Slimes and Bombs, Oh My

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a bewildered mercenary is approached by a strange group of adventurers.

“Is it true that there’s Gigas in there? And giant slimes? And bombs?”

The Stone Torch stared askance at the excitable Lalafell before him. Messy black bangs could not hide the fiery gleam in the small one’s eyes as he fidgeted with the haft of an axe almost as large as he was. Behind him, a second Lalafell wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a pensive look watched her companion with what appeared to be well-practiced indifference.

“Er… Yes, it's very dangerous. The coblyns have even fled the mines…” The Stone Torch gestured to the scene of destruction behind him. “Now we’re just hoping the adventurer’s guild sends someone to… handle it.”

“That’s us,” The hyuran woman piped up, kicking at the air. Ever since this small - and strange - group had arrived, she had been shadowboxing. The Stone Torch did not know if it was on accident or on purpose, but many of her blows came dangerously close to striking the Au Ra man that made up the final member of this motley crew. The Au Ra did not react no matter how close his horns came to being clipped by her flying limbs, and instead wore a deadpan expression that seemed to indicate his very existence caused him continual, but manageable, pain.

The Stone Torch blinked, and looked them all over once more. Of those gathered, only the Lalafell with the axe seemed to actually want to be here. The rest of them seemed various shades of bored and actively angry.

“Really?” The Stone Torch asked, unsure.

“Momodi sent us,” informed the quiet Lalafell. “The money is good. We’ll clear it out.”

“Yeah we will!” shouted the excitable one, hefting his weapon. To his credit, though it seemed to weigh as much as he did, he wielded it with ease. “I can’t wait! How awesome is it going to be to smash a Gigas?”

“How awesome is it going to be to scrape you off the rocks?” The Au Ra muttered, face unchanged. The Stone Torch intervened as the quiet Lalafell seemed to ready a rebuke.

“Ah, well, if that’s the case, what are your names? For my records, in case…” He trailed off.

“We’re the Muffins!” shouted the male muffin, throwing his arms over his companion’s shoulder. “She’s Honey and I’m Blackberry! Some people call me Berry, and some people call me names.” Honey - if that were her name - made a face, but did not argue.

“Muffin…?” The Stone Torch clarified. Blackberry nodded happily.

“Mhm! Honey said we’d be more marketable with nicknames.”

“Yes, that is the reason I suggested it and I certainly have no other motives beyond that,” Honey stated, adjusting her hat as Blackberry leaned off of her. “Our companions are Ugan,” she pointed at the Au Ra, who scowled, “and Kiora.”

“Hey,” Kiora said, her fist flying within an ilm of Ugan’s ludicrously spiky hair. The Stone Torch scratched his nose nervously, though he was relieved that at least the two non-lalafells had more… regular names.

“Well… If Momodi sent you, she must believe you capable.” The Stone Torch relented, though he did consider the possibility that she wanted them dead. That would be out of character for the kindly innkeeper, however. “I suppose you should clear out the coblyn’s and then use the lift to descend below. The gigas have to be coming from somewhere.”

“You got it!” Blackberry yelled, and then without further warning, charged towards the derelict mine behind them. The coblyns, content until now to nibble on whatever rocks they could find, were completely caught off guard by the ferocity of the tiny creature that now assaulted them. 

“Finally.” Ugan growled, stalking forward roughly past The Stone Torch and producing a cane. The Stone Torch blanched. That man was a conjurer? Half his face appeared to be coated in some sort of black war paint - or was it some sort of birthmark? With a snarl, Ugan raised the staff, and an aetherial barrier formed around Blackberry.

As for Honey and Kiora, neither of them moved forward. Kiora continued to shadowbox, and Honey just folded her arms.

“Are you going to help…?” The Stone Torch asked timidly, the sounds of carnage increasing from behind him. Honey shrugged, and pointed.

“Why?” She asked. “They have it handled.”

The Stone Torch turned around to find Blackberry standing triumphantly atop a mound of dead coblyn’s. Ugan simply lowered his staff, dissatisfied.

“Nice warm up!” Blackberry shouted. “Up top, big guy!” From his position atop the coblyns, he and Ugan were nearly equal in height. Blackberry raised his hand. Ugan stared at him, and then stalked towards the lift. Blackberry deflated, but only barely, and then chased after the conjurer.

“That’s our cue,” Honey said, nodding to The Stone Torch. “Shouldn’t take more than a bell, but probably less than that. It depends on how distracted he gets.”

“Ugan or Berry?” Kiora asked, finishing her practice with a backflip and following Honey past the dead coblyns. Honey just shrugged.

“Hurry up!” Blackberry cried, causing Ugan to wince as they readied the lift. Kiora and Honey stepped aboard, and they promptly descended into the depths of the Copperbell Mines. For his part, The Stone Torch just stared, and then scratched his head. Either that group was going places, or they were never going to come back up. Either way, he doubted they would be his problem for very long - if at all.

When the adventurer’s emerged from the mines half a bell later, the only one who looked any different at all was Blackberry - his armor was covered in dings and dents, and he was covered in scrapes and bruises. The Stone Torch stared, confused, at the clearly injured Lalafell, before looking at Ugan. Why had the conjurer not…?

“He doesn’t heal stupid.” Honey said as Ugan opened his mouth, the both of the replying to his unanswered question. Ugan just closed his mouth.

“I fell down a mineshaft.” Blackberry explained, as if that cleared anything up at all. “But we got all the gigas! You’re welcome!” Without another word, the party left, Blackberry chatting amicably while Honey listened placidly. Ugan loomed behind them, and Kiora lazily made up the rear, hands behind her head.

The Stone Torch scratched his chin, shrugged, and went to gather his mercenaries, and tell his boss the good news.


	2. Bookworms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ugan is angry that mortal things like “laws” keep getting in the way of his quest for power.

“Ah, found him.”

Urianger looked up from his book - a rather fascinating treatise on voidsent and their effects on this world - to find an imposing Au Ra man standing across the room, making direct eye contact with him. Were it not for the goggles, his visitor would have seen his eyes widen in surprise. Who was this, then, in the Waking Sands…? Minfillia had spoken of recruiting someone new, but he was under the impression that they had been a Lalafell. The Au Ra strode purposefully towards him. 

“I need your magic books.” The Au Ra demanded, without further explanation. Up close, his gaze was intense and insistent, with one of his two sickly purple eyes glowing with light. Strange. Urianger frowned.

“Thou must have me mistaken for another, I fear.” Urianger explained. “I have received not any requests for tomes. Pray, giveth me your names and mayhaps…” He trailed off as the Au Ra’s face deepened into a scowl with every word he spoke. He opened his mouth once, but nothing came out, and then, he gritted his teeth. Once more, his mouth opened. A strangled noise. Finally, seething and through clenched teeth, the Au Ra spoke.

“Ugan,” he said, though it sounded strangled.

Urianger tilted his head.

“My name is Ugan,” he clarified. “And I am interested in any books the Scions have on magic.”

“I see,” Urianger mused. “Before this inquiry goes further, pray tell me, art thou the one blessed with the Echo, whom Minfillia spoke?” Ugan’s face had relaxed back into a comfortable scowl, no longer twisted by whatever rage had blossomed within him.

“I’ve got the Echo, but if Minfillia was talking about him, she was probably talking about Berry,” Ugan explained. “I just follow him around and make sure he doesn’t die.” Urianger blinked, hidden behind his goggles. He remembered, then, that the new recruit was insinuated to be part of a Free Company, whom he was close with. He did not anticipate that there would be those among that Free Company with the Echo, however.

“What hast thou seeking out tomes of magic, then?”

“Honey told me to.”

“And whom is this Honey…?” 

“Honey Muffin. Berry’s… whatever. She wants the books, and she told me to get them. I have to do what she says.” Ugan did not seem to be very interested in describing the details of that arrangement, and so caught off guard by what he was being told that Urianger did not press him for details.

“Thou wouldst have me believe thou art here at the behest of someone called ‘Honey Muffin’?”

“Ugan! What’s taking so long?” The angry voice drifted into Urianger’s “study” from the adjoining hall. Ugan’s eye twitched at the sound, but he otherwise did not react. 

“Yes. Now… books?” While it was subtle, Urianger could detect a note of pleading in the Au Ra’s voice. Even so, the circumstances of their introduction were less than auspicious, and what was more, he was not even certain such knowledge would be wise to distribute into the hands of one so ill-tempered. A measure of deception was in order, it seemed.

“Prithee givest me a moment, and I shall collect what thou seek.” Urainger declared, and promptly stepped away as Ugan nodded. Urianger busied himself collecting some basic tomes regarding the fundamentals of spellcasting, and when he had gathered four, he returned and handed them to Ugan, who promptly snapped them up.

“...Thank you.” Ugan said, though it sounded both insincere and hostile. He turned on his heel and began stalking away, but abruptly stopped mid step before whirling around once more. “Is this some kind of joke? ‘Aetherial Composition’? ‘Introduction to Thaumaturgy’? ‘Principles of Conjury?’ and don’t even get me started on this Astrologian…” Ugan’s voice became strangled near the end of his tirade. Whatever was stopping him from talking it was clearly involuntary. A pity - Urianger would have liked to know this strange man’s opinion on Astrology. 

“Dost thou find our tomes problematic?” Urianger asked plainly.

“This is some basic shite,” Ugan growled. “Don’t you have anything… better? ‘Applications of Aetherial Manipulation in Regards to the Summoning and Dispersal of Voidsent’, maybe? Records from the Mage Wars? Historical documents from Allag or Amdapor? Anything at all about actually magery and not any of this watered-down conjury and thaumaturgy tripe?”

Urianger stared.

“...Such knowledge is plainly made forbidden,” he stated flatly. “Surely both the Conjurer’s and Thaumaturge’s Guild informed thou of this?”

“I’m not at the Guild,” Ugan grumbled, then sighed hotly. He placed the books on a nearby table. “Whatever. We’ll just go raid Qarn or the Void Ark or something. At least Berry will be happy.” This time, Ugan did, in fact, stalk away. “...Honey’s gonna kill me though.”

Urianger watched him go, frowning. What a peculiar fellow. And what was that about Qarn? And a… Void Ark? He had never heard of such a thing. Urianger tapped his chin. Folly, Fact, or Foolery…? He wondered…

He returned to his book. Shortly, he heard shouting coming from the hallway.


	3. The Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Admiral reviews the report of Titan’s demise.

Merlwyb was staring pensively out the window of her office when she heard the door open. She did not have to turn around to know it was her stolid second in command, Eynzahr. The heaviness of his footfalls attested to it. The last few days had been trying for the Admiral. What with news of Titan’s resurfacing - so to speak - and her involvement in that process, Limsa Lominsa had found itself teetering on a difficult precipice, diplomatically speaking. Gridania and Ul’dah were none too pleased with her violation of their treaty with the kobolds, and while she did not regret her actions per se, she had to admit that, given recent events, had she the benefit of perfect foresight, she may have chosen differently.

Even as she had prepared for an oncoming assault from the terran primal - undoubtedly accompanied by the loss of a significant portion of Limsa Lominsa’s military and political strength - the situation had… resolved itself. Not naturally, of course. Thanks to a group of adventurers, Titan had been slain ere it could even leave its lair. What’s more, those same adventurers had called off the hounds of Ul’dah and Gridania - at the cost of extracting a promise from her that she would treat the kobolds more equitably in the future. Even so, it seemed the dreaded rise of Titan had been but a fleeting nightmare, swiftly blown from the dream that was Limsa Lominsa post-calamity by a strange Lalafel man and his friends.

Eynzahr cleared his throat.

“Apologies,” Merlwyb murmured, turning from her window. “I was lost in thought.”

Eynzahr grunted, and without further response, tossed a stack of parchment upon her desk.

“Muffin submitted this report to Maelstrom Command,” he informed her. “A full account of his struggle with Titan.” Merlwyb frowned. Muffin. What a strange moniker, but easy to remember.

“Voluntarily?” she asked. Eynzahr shrugged. 

“I suppose. T’was not I who gave him orders for it.”

“Nor I,” Merlwyb agreed, and picked up the report. It was penned more legibly then she might suspect from the excitable warrior, and with a degree of gravity that was otherwise missing from his personal interactions. Flipping the first page over, a small postscript indicated that the true author was actually his partner, Honey. That explained plenty. “Have you reviewed it?”

“Briefly,” Eynzahr admitted. “I got as far as the ‘aetherflux capacitor’ before I decided I should bring it to you.”

Merlwyb blinked. The… what?

She sat down and began reading the report, indicating that Eynzahr should take his ease.

The overarching details she was familiar with. Muffin and his Free Company descended into the bowels of O’Ghomoro, located an aetheryte they could use to infiltrate Titan’s lair, and slew the primal. In all, there were eight of them, blessed with the Echo that they may resist the primal’s tempering. The Muffins - Honey and Blackberry, respectively - spearheaded the operation. Blackberry was in charge of distracting the primal long enough for this… ‘aetherflux capacitor’ to be readied. Assisting him in this endeavor was one Kiora Turi, a pugilist of no small skill, the conjurer Delphyne, Salem, the dancer (an exotic and unfamiliar battle art that she had not yet witnessed firsthand) and a gladiator known as Lao. As for the ‘aetherflux capacitor’ that had been provided by a man the document referred to as “The Brute”, who was an engineer of sorts. Honey - a thaumaturge - along with the surly conjurer, Ugan, would gather a large quantity of aether, channel it into the capacitor, and, ostensibly, slay Titan.

Not all had gone to plan.

At some point, apparently, Titan had punched the capacitor off of the platform and into a bottomless crevasse. Their strategy lost, Honey and Ugan had made a last minute decision to channel all the aether they had been building up into… Berry? Thusly imbued, he had promptly struck at Titan’s heart and shattered the primal, claiming ultimate victory. No casualties. Following the account, there was a rather lengthy dissertation that apparently detailed how Muffin could have possibly handled such a powerful influx of aether, but Merlwyb knew when to admit she was out of her depth, and had no desire to read further about aetheric theory.

She set down the report.

“It seems to me they were either very skilled, or very lucky,” she mused, folding her hands on the desk. Eynzahr scratched his beard. 

“Not much difference between those two things, more than likely,” he replied. Merlwyb hummed.

“Apparently they decided to channel enough aether to kill a primal into Muffin.” She told him. Eynzahr frowned, thoughtful.

“And it didn’t kill him?” he asked. Merlwyb shrugged.

“Apparently not.”

They both sat in silence for a moment.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous…” Merlwyb felt the need to clarify.

“Of course, he’s a good lad,” Eynzahr murmured, brow furrowed and looking away in thought.

“I just think that perhaps it would be in our best interest to keep ourselves appraised of his movement,” she said, patting the report on her desk before standing up. “And the movements of his companions.” The admiral stepped over to her liquor cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of spiced rum, procured for her by the owner of the Bismarck. She poured a glass for Eynzahr, who nodded.

“Agreed.” Eynzahr said. “Their career will be of great interest.” He raised his glass.

“If nothing else…” She agreed, tapping her glass to his.


	4. Of Tea and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ugan makes his opinions about his role abundantly clear.

Alphinaud Leveilleur prided himself on having an excellent memory, especially regarding the faces of people he had met. Such a skill had proven invaluable in his early artistic endeavors, and later in life, in his diplomatic ones. So, it was with some chagrin that, as he watched the two peculiar Au Ra men engage in a spirited discussion, that he knew he recognized one of them, but could not for the life of him remember from where.

He sipped his tea, careful to keep his face smooth as he intently studied the Au Ra.

He had accepted an invitation to the Free Company Headquarters of one… Blackberry Muffin, in part because he enjoyed the man’s company and in part because it could not harm his position in Eorzea to get on the good side of the warrior that slew Titan. Since arriving, there had been a whirlwind of strange introductions, and he had been sat down in a second story lounge area notable for its well-stocked shelves of liquor and lively aquariums full of bright fish. Blackberry (and Alphinaud swore he would one day learn the story behind THAT moniker) had excused himself to the washroom, and so Alphinaud was left with the silent manservant tending the in-house bar and the two Au Ra men talking about… their shared ancestry.

Alphinaud had been introduced to them both. The slimmer, annoyed one was called Ugan, a conjurer of no small repute - in fact, there had been whispers that he had secretly begun learning the lost art of White Magic. The other, much larger, and incredibly muscled, referred to himself as “Brute”. While Alphinaud found Brute’s demeanor affable, he was significantly less motivated to learn the origins of that nickname, finding it rather self-evident. Despite his mass, Brute appeared to be a rather knowledgeable and skilled engineer, absently tinkering with unkowable mechanical devices while he and Ugan spoke.

It was, however, Ugan who was perplexing him. While the Au Ra had a distinct appearance - what with one glowing eye, bisected face paint (tattoo?), and impractically spiky hair - he could only vaguely remember that he had, in fact, seen him before, but not under what circumstance. So lost was Alphinaud in thought that, when he was finally caught staring, he did not even notice their conversation had stopped until they addressed him. 

“What?” Ugan growled testily, snapping Alphinaud out of his thoughts. Alphinaud felt his cheeks color as embarrassment washed over him, but, never to be caught off-guard in a social situation, he cleared his throat.

“Excuse me,” he responded apologetically, “I was just wondering if we had met, before today.”

“Be nice, cousin,” Brute admonished, sternly. “He is our guest.”

“I’m not your cousin,” Ugan insisted, which had been the crux of the discussion between the Au Ra men thus far. Apparently, Brute thought Ugan was playing some elaborate prank, claiming to not be related to him, and Ugan was either refusing to give up on the joke, or sincerely convinced they were not related. It was difficult to understand exactly what was going on, and Alphinaud admitted to himself that his interest in the topic had waned long ago. “He’s been staring at me since Berry left.”

“I did not mean to cause offense…” Alphinaud began, but Ugan’s scowl deepened, and he interrupted.

“I’m not offended,” He clarified, then reclined in the lounge chair with a huff, his face turning neutral. “We haven’t met, but I saw you and your sister on our way into Ul’dah.”  
Alphinaud blinked, and then snapped his fingers.

“Ah, of course! The Amal’jaa attack! I had completely forgotten,” He said, relieved to finally have the mystery solved. Recalling the event more vividly, he did remember Ugan - certainly dressed less ostentatiously back then - as the sour Au Ra man they had shared a carriage with, along with some hapless merchant. He had hardly said a word until the merchant struck up a conversation with him, and even then, the exchange had been… terse. Venomous, really.

It seemed Ugan had lost none of his venom since then. Alphinaud decided to be charitable and count it as a good thing.

He cleared his throat again, as the silence in the room had become… thick.

“So! You were there with Berry, yes? When Titan was slain?” At the mention of the primal, Ugan and Brute both frowned.

“Yes,” Brute said sadly. “He destroyed my beautiful capacitor.”

“Capacitor?” Alphinaud asked, intrigued. Brute immediately launched into a description of some piece of magitek he had devised that could slay a primal - if sufficiently charged with aether. It could not hold a charge for long, however, and it was rather cumbersome to carry around, but Brute was determined to streamline the design. Apparently, Titan had destroyed the only prototype though. 

“Void claim me, enough about your machine!” Ugan hissed, causing Brute, who was in the middle of theorizing about possible improvements to the capacitor, to blanch. 

“Testy, testy,” Brute muttered. “But, this conversation has given me ideas - I must go to the workshop.” He stood up, and gave Alphinaud a wide smile. “Nice meeting you, young man.” And the engineer trundled down the stairs, his passage almost shaking the loft.

“Finally,” Ugan sighed, and spread his arms along the back of the sofa. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. “Give me something bitter, Benedict,” he demanded. Alphinaud blinked, and nearly started as there was a hum of acceptance and the sound of mixing drinks from behind the bar. So stolid and silent had the Roegadyn manservant been, Alphinaud had completely forgotten he was there.

Shortly, a small glass with two cubes of ice was brought on a tray to Ugan, who nodded at the manservant as he retrieved it and righted himself upon the sofa. He sipped it, prompting Alphinaud to do the same from his cup of tea.  
“You’re Louisoix’s grandson.” Ugan observed, voice quiet, but not reverent. Alphinaud felt a stab of grief lance through his stomach at the mention of his grandfather. Berry had not introduced him to the Free Company as such, but the surname made it abundantly clear. 

“...Yes,” Alphinaud managed to reply. 

“Read about him.” Ugan told him, as though he was clarifying something. “Berry says he was there. At Carteneau.” Ugan shook his head, and scoffed. “Just like him, though. He doesn’t remember a damn thing.”

“He’s forgetful, then?” Alphinaud asked, wishing to steer the conversation away from the calamity and his grandfather.

“Like a goldfish,” Ugan grunted, and took a sip of his drink. “Strong, though.” He conceded, albeit with a scowl. 

“He must be difficult to keep up with.” Alphinaud pointed out. Ugan’s scowl practically deepened into a snarl. 

“Hardly,” he sneered, and downed the rest of his drink. “Conjury is an art meant for infants and cowards. There isn’t a being alive that could hurt anyone I didn’t want to be hurt. Berry’s constant endeavor to kill himself is little more than a distraction.”

Alphinaud watched this tirade, taken aback. Apparently, he had touched a nerve. Until now, he had assumed Ugan was simply a little rough around the edges. After all, anyone who practiced Conjury could not possibly be that… toxic. Maybe, however, he had been wrong. Ugan certainly seemed to approach the practice with a great deal of…

Spite.

“You don’t seem to enjoy it.” Alphinaud mentioned diplomatically, and finished his tea.

“It’s not about enjoyment.” Ugan replied, but did not elaborate further.

“Then you do it because…?” Alphinaud prompted.

Ugan gave him a strange look. As though he were both unfathomably furious, incurably aggrieved, and flabbergasted, all at once. Alphinaud was not sure he would ever be able to draw a face like that.

“Who else is going to?” He said flatly, as though it were the most obvious - and most irritating - thing on the entire star.

Just then, Blackberry bounded back up the stairs, obviously taking them two at a time.

“Sorry I was gone so long!” He called. “I had a HUGE breakfast.” Blackberry caught sight of Ugan, and grinned. “Thanks for that by the way, big guy!”

Ugan scoffed, stood up, and stomped down the stairs. Blackberry just shrugged.

“Hey, you need more tea?” The warrior asked Alphinaud, who had watched Ugan leave, perplexed.

“Ah, no, thank you. I’ve had quite enough.”

“Sure, sure!” Blackberry said amicably, and then offered to show Alphinaud to Honey’s library. Talking with the Lalafel man, he supposed he could see what Ugan was talking about. It was a chore just keeping up with Blackberry’s tour - he could not imagine the herculean effort it would take to follow the energetic warrior into combat.

Now the only question that remained was this; did Ugan do it because he cared about Blackberry, or for the challenge?

Something to ponder.


	5. The Conjurer's Guild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Delphyne shows Ugan how to be a proper White Mage.

An aggrieved groan heralded the approach of E-Sumi-Yan’s headache before it ever actually made an appearance. The sound itself caused a dull throb at the base of his horns and, temperate and patient though he was, he closed his eyes a moment to compose himself. He had become increasingly familiar with that noise as the newest… addition… to their esteemed ranks was fond of making it when receiving any revelation regarding anything relating to conjury, the guild, and his newfound prominence within it.

To this day, E-Sumi was not even sure why Ugan had been insistent upon learning conjury. Only that, the first time he had appeared, it had been in the presence of a Lalafel woman, and he had worn the beleaguered expression that would come to be typical of him throughout his “training”.

Elementals protect him, what a “training” it had been.  
E-Sumi could not rightly deny that Ugan was skilled. In fact, his ability to manipulate aether surpassed even his own, and he could do it in such large, raw quantities that it was a miracle he had not combusted from attempting to handle it all. What Ugan made up for in raw power, however, he lacked in… finesse. There was no subtlety, no artistry, and certainly no bedside manner. Just a raw overapplication of aether, and anything - be it wound or foe - that survived the assault was simply treated to more of the same.

To say that the guild frowned upon such things was an understatement. Conjury was not about the application of force, after all. Ugan treated the criticism of his technique the same way he treated conjury, however: with all the subtlety of a hammer.

He had been helpful, though. E-Sumi kept telling himself that.

While he knew Ugan had just returned to the guild, he was surprised to see that he was accompanied by another Au Ra - a woman whom E-Sumi respected, and the newest in the order of White Mages. Delphyne. She seemed irritated - which was a mild expression next to the scorn plastered on Ugan’s face - and she was staring straight ahead, before she caught E-Sumi’s eye, and made straight for him. Ugan, tempestuous, followed.

E-Sumi felt his head throb.

“Delphyne,” He said, bowing slightly in greeting. “...Ugan. It is good to see you… both.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Ugan demanded, folding his arms. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need something.” Delphyne whirled on him with a hiss, brandishing her cane.

“I only agreed to this because you promised you would be respectful!” She growled. Ugan scowled, and threw his arms in the air, but did not contest the statement. Delphyne composed herself, and turned to look at E-Sumi.

“Apologies, guild master,” she told him with a small bow. “Ugan and I are having a… disagreement, and require arbitration.”

“...What is the nature of this disagreement?” E-Sumi asked carefully, frowning.

“She doesn’t think I’m a White Mage.” Ugan responded immediately, and produced his cane. “Like she would even know what a White Mage is.”

“You aren’t.” Delphyne countered. “I have a soul gem. You don’t. Therefore…”

“I don’t need a bunch of ancient idiots trapped in a rock to tell me how to do White Magic!” Ugan countered, and E-Sumi suddenly felt lightheaded hearing Ugan refer to the honored White Magi of ages past in such a manner. He stamped his cane on the ground once to gain the attention of the arguing conjurers.

“Enough.” He intoned gravely, glaring at Ugan. First, however, he turned his attention to Delphyne. “This is outrageous. How could you have been goaded into such an argument is beyond me. That Soul Gem is a sacred relic, not a badge of honor!” Ugan opened his mouth to add to that thought, but E-Sumi whirled on him quickly. “And you! You may have earned your title by sheer force alone, but you certainly have not earned any of the respect!”

“I don’t want-” Ugan began, but E-Sumi waved his cane decisively.

“I know! It could not possibly be any clearer that you hold our ways in utmost contempt, and see, have seen, and will continue to see, the path of conjury as a means to an end!” He slammed his staff on the floor once more, fully assured that he had gained the attention of everyone unfortunate enough to be in attendance in the hall today. “How could you not be a White Mage? This self-same reckless bid for power is what caused the Mage Wars in the first place, and why the ban on the teaching of such magic was implemented! Had you not circumvented the letter of the law and inexplicably taught yourself such magic, I would have had you censured long ago!”

Both Ugan and Delphyne stared at him for a heartbeat. Then, Ugan turned to grin wolfishly at the other Au Ra.

“Ha! Told you.” Without a further word, Ugan turned on his heel and strode out of the guild hall. Delphyne watched him go, clearly discontent, but at least she had the decency to look mollified. E-Sumi pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Delphyne,” he said, and she looked up at him. “That yours is a sacred charge is something he will never understand. That the power he wields is capable of untold devastation worries him not. As White Magi, it is our duty to ensure his power is wielded appropriately. None match him in terms of skill or power…” As he said this, Delphyne’s frown deepened, and became angry. E-Sumi placed a hand on her shoulder. “...Save for you. Whether by example or force, you must teach him temperance. The fate of the star could one day depend on it.”

Delphyne sighed.

“I’m sorry for arguing with him,” she said.

“I know,” he confirmed.  
“He’s… really very annoying,” she continued.

“I know,” E-Sumi confirmed again. “I have never in my life met a more frustrating person. But what better a mentor than he to teach one patience?”

Delphyne made a vague sound of disgust, but her heart was not in it. E-Sumi chuckled. He did not envy her responsibility, but he was certain she was up to the task.

“Come,” he said, “I find myself tired and in need of some soothing tea. You should join me.” At the offer, Delphyne perked up slightly, and they made their way out of the guildhall to find something to ease E-Sumi’s mild headache.


	6. More flies with Honey...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a Thaumaturge is roused to anger.

In the dreary drylands of Thanalan, the rain fell unkindly. Uncovered, the slayer of Titan sat, staring into the cemetery, his eyes far away, and his usual exuberance, silenced. Alphinaud felt a twinge of guilt at the sight. He had brought news of Garuda, resolved to revive the scions, and revealed Cid Garlond. He had not brought comfort, however, and in the quiet moments following declarations of solidarity and action, it was clear that the imperial attack on the Waking Sands was affecting Blackberry negatively. 

Alphinaud watched silently from the shelter of the chapel. Beside him, Honey did the same. Admittedly, Alphinaud knew less about Blackberry’s enigmatic partner, mostly because there was not much to find. Common knowledge was that a Thaumaturge of not insignificant power travelled with Berry, and that they were related in some way, by either blood or ceremony. They certainly seemed close… and they shared their striking black hair and penchant for involving themselves in various adventures. While Blackberry was an open book, Honey was a closed one.

Alphinaud had yet to determine if that was by incident, or by design. In the lull of the rainstorm, now seemed as good a time as any.

“He seems troubled.” Alphinaud offered, knowing that offering the obvious was both a surefire way to start a conversation and to gauge the personality of the other participant.

“He’ll get over it.” Honey muttered, folding her arms. Beneath her wide brimmed hat, Alphinaud was unable to see her expression. Her voice was neutral, but her words were cold.

“Will you go to him?” Alphinaud asked, genuinely curious. What sort of relationship did they have, then, if she were so callous?

“There are better uses of my time.” Honey replied. And yet…

“And yet, here you are, watching him.” Alphinaud pointed out. This was followed by a long, tense silence.

“...You have mistaken my stillness for idleness,” Honey said eventually, voice even. “You see him, sitting there, and you think, ‘How sad he must be, with the Scions scattered. Captured. How terrible to be the last one left on the eve of his victory over Titan.’” 

Alphinaud let the silence confirm his thoughts, as he did not feel the need to interrupt her. She continued.

“That is good. Someone should think that, and there are those whom he knows who take things like his feelings into consideration. They will be good to him, when the time comes. We all have our parts to play, and I’m playing mine.”

Alphinaud waited for her to elaborate, but she did not.

“And what part is that…?” He prompted, eventually.

“The fire under his arse.” She said simply, and, as if to illustrate the point, whipped out her staff, and sent a bolt of searing lightning to obliterate the bench Blackberry was sitting on. With nothing to warn him but the buzz of electricity flying through the air, Blackberry was still able to dive out of the way of the bolt in time, albeit with a look of blind panic. 

“Get off your behind and go do some SQUATS or something!” Honey screamed at him. “I’m sick of your moping!”

Blackberry promptly righted himself, saluted, and ran off with a shouted ‘Yes, ma’am!’

Alphinaud watched the exchange, bemused, but had to admit that Blackberry did seem to be in a better mood for her… ministrations. Still…

“I admit the efficacy of your tactics, but if that was your intention all along, why let him ‘mope’ at all?”

Honey secured her staff on her back, and turned to look up at him. Her face was neutral, and Alphinaud noticed for the first time that each of her eyes were different colors. Within them burned a fire that was not at all belayed by the sound of her voice or the furrow of her brow.

“I was thinking about how I’m going to vaporize every Garlean I see, level their edifices to the earth, and turn everything they’ve ever loved to glass,” she told him, and shrugged. “I got caught up in the anticipation.”

She gave him a small wave, and marched off, ostensibly to find wherever Blackberry had walked off to. Alphinaud, for his part, returned to the inside of the chapel, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. He resolved, then and there, never to get on Honey’s bad side.


	7. Overwhelming Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cid becomes familiar with the Personnel’s Modus Operandi

Cid had imagined this was going to be a stealth mission, of sorts. While fighting would not be out of the ordinary, per se, he thought it was going to be kept to a minimum. After all, when Cid had heard the Eorzean Alliance speak of the Free Company, he had heard nothing but effusive praise regarding their effectiveness. They had slain Titan! Ifrit! He had seen them slay Garuda. Muffin Personnel - a silly name, to be sure - had become synonymous with the elite. Surely, they would deal with the infiltration of the Praetorium with no less finesse.

That had been blown out the window - literally - the moment an imperial patrol had the misfortune of walking into view. Cid did not know who acted first, but between Honey and Ugan, the patrol had been vaporized in such an overwhelming display of magical might, Cid had mistaken it at first for a salvo of heavy magitek artillery. The sound certainly matched. All that remained of the patrol was a charred crater.

Shortly thereafter, the claxons had begun sounding, and Cid found himself in a mad dash through an imperial fortress, following a group of mad men and women as they appeared to improvise an infiltration strategy on the fly. At one point, Kiora had spotted a garbage chute and urged the Free Company to enter, believing they could climb their way deeper into the fortress, and it worked. Cid even got caught up in the madness of it all, and while this still felt strangely familiar and completely new to him at the same time, he was able to repair a suit of magitek armor and use its powerful artillery to literally blow their way through most of the Castrum.

Despite the haphazard nature of the assault, never once did the Personnel back down, show surprise, or slow their pace. Cid saw Kiora suplex an Iron Giant. Brute co-opted an entire battery of magitek artillery and obliterated half the Castrum. Delphyne adeptly protected the entire group from the previously mentioned obliteration with a well timed ward. He was not sure if he saw it right, but he was fairly certain he saw Berry cut a wall in half.

By the time they reached the entrance to the Praetorium, the majority of the Castrum had been obliterated. Strangely, Honey seemed to come to this conclusion at the same time he had, and she seemed rather pleased with herself. Cid broke off from the group to find an alternate way into the Praetorium, and so, found himself watching from a unique vantage point - from an abandoned security console - as he realized the Personnel were squaring off against Livia sas Junius. Surrounded by the wreckage of the Castrum, he wondered if she would surrender, and then immediately dismissed that thought. Of course she would not. 

The battle was heated, with what little force the remaining imperial forces could muster supporting Livia as she laid into the Free Company with her augmented magitek armor. It was to no avail, however - Brute commandeered the nearby artillery batteries and obliterated the armor, forcing Julia to abandon it in favor of facing off against the entire Free Company on foot. What was more, her supporting troops had been decimated in the melee, leaving her the last woman standing against the encroaching Eorzean threat. Cid frowned at that, knowing that she would never surrender.

Oddly, almost as one, the Personnel disengaged, giving space to Livia and another lone combatant - Blackberry. The communications were shot on the console, so there was no sound, so he could not hear what was being said. Behind her mask, he was not even sure Livia was responding, until a wide, dismissive swing of her arm punctuated her portion of the conversation. Blackberry readied his axe, stance firm.

Livia charged, too fast for Cid to follow, and it was over in an instant. Blackberry had leaped over the charging imperial, and struck her mid-air with such force that she had been crushed into the earth by the impact. Cid could make out cracks in Livia’s armor from where he was standing, and grimaced. If the strike did that much damage to the armor, he could only imagine how the body beneath must look. To obliterate one of the most capable combatants Cid had ever seen in a single strike…

He hurried on. He had a job to do. As he made his way into the Praetorium, he wondered what else the boisterous Lalafell man was capable of, if sufficiently roused.


	8. The Nature of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Lahabrea finds out exactly what he is dealing with

As final preparations for the activation of Ultima Weapon concluded, Lahabrea watched from the shadows. He had oft taunted the newest Scion, even stealing the body of one of his comrades, and wondered idly what strange forces the little warrior had brought that would allow them to penetrate the Praetorium with such ease and finesse. While his allies in the Scions had proved simple to manipulate, Lahabrea had never had the inclination to investigate the Lalafell’s adventuring companions. He knew them blessed by the Echo, of course, and that made them uniquely suited to perpetuating the cycle of conflict that he stoked with the Beast Tribes. A useful tool, if a dangerous one. So far, however, everything had gone to plan - what, then, could these allies possibly muster? Either the Mother Crystal would sacrifice a portion of her strength saving the little man, or she would let him die, and they would be free to usher in the next calamity, bereft of his nuisance. 

So, it was with no small amount of shock that, when the adventurers barged into Ultima’s hangar, he discovered that one among the troop was decidedly not mortal.

In such close proximity, Lahabrea could see it clearly. The Au Ra man, dressed in a white leather coat and outfitted with armor around his forearms and shins, radiated darkness aether so powerfully that, if the same amount had infused a normal mortal soul, he would have assumed them already lost to the void. Indeed, the amount of darkness pouring out of his being meant he could be none other than a Voidsent - those regrettable by-products of their misstep on the Thirteenth.

And yet, he was clad in mortal flesh, possessed of his faculties and decidedly not draining every available source of aether for all it was worth. The only beings he knew of that were capable of possessing mortal bodies while maintaining a connection to their own soul…

Were Ascians. 

What… What was he? How had he come to be? ...And, why was he practicing White Magic?

Ethereal and out of sight as he was, Lahabrea gave himself the luxury of staring at the anomaly, perplexed. None of his companions saw aught amiss - as to be expected of such sundered creatures - and, though for all intents and purposes he was supposed to be a creature of insatiable hunger, he simply stood there, looking bored, as Gaius pontificated about something or other regarding Ultima Weapon.

Then, suddenly, the Au Ra turned to look at him, making eye contact. It took much of Lahabrea’s considerable temerity not to flinch. So, the voidspawn could sense him. He held his gaze steady, matching the stare - one eye glowing lowly, a ring of light surrounding it - when suddenly…

The Au Ra winked.

Lahabrea sneered.

Whatever this creature was, it would matter little after he activated Ultima. Gaius’ monologue was nearing an end, and it was time for Lahabrea to step in. He would deal with the… anomaly… later. If it survived at all.


	9. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Blackberry recovers from his engagement with Ultima.

Well, they had done it. They had saved the Scions. Dispatched Van Baelsar. Destroyed Ultima Weapon. United (most of) Eorzea. It was a good day! After a lot of hard work. A lot of trials, heartache, and loss. He never would have been able to make it this far without the support of his friends, and he knew they deserved to rest. Just like he did.

Blackberry groaned.

“I’m so bored,” he said, throwing his hands up. From his upside-down position upon the futon, this caused his arms to reach the floor. Across the room, Honey paused her observance of one of her alchemical mixtures. 

“Yes, you mentioned that,” she muttered absently. “Thirteen times. Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“Literally, no.” Blackberry sat up. “No Primals. No Garleans. No… nothing. There’s no one to fight! They called me the Warrior of Light, not the… Sitter of Light!” He promptly flopped back down. “Ugh.”

“You need a hobby,” Honey told him, as one of the substances in her alembic began to pop. She quickly removed it from heat, frowning.

“I have a hobby!” Blackberry whined.

“You need a hobby that isn’t fighting things,” Honey clarified, swirling the contents of the bottle thoughtfully. “Maybe apprentice at the Blacksmith’s Guild?”

“That sounds like it would be boring, complex, and take a long time.” Blackberry informed her, rolling onto his stomach so his voice was muffled by the satin of the futon. 

“Maybe, but I think it’s better than the alternative,” Honey told him, pouring the contents into a stoppered vial, satisfied.

“Uh…” Blackberry rolled off the Futon, so he was sitting spread legged on the floor. “What’s the alternative?”

“You tell me you’re bored one more time, and I incinerate you.” Honey smiled pleasantly at Blackberry.

Blackberry was quiet for a long moment, deep in thought.

“I don’t think you’d kill me, but it would definitely hurt,” he mumbled, and Honey just hummed as she began brewing another potion. “Fine. I’ll go talk to… whoever. Where’s the guild again?”

“Limsa Lominsa.”

“Right.” Blackberry stood up, and marched towards Honey’s door…

...Just in time for it to fly open, and hit him the face. He reeled backwards, clutching his nose. No blood, at least. Ugan stared at him from the doorway, nonplussed despite his portal-based assault.

“Hey, boss.” He greeted Honey flatly. She waved a hand. “Nanamo told Raubahn to tell me to tell you guys that she wants to have tea.”

“Tea?” Blackberry said, perking up. Tea meant biscuits and he was suddenly starving. “When?”

“Next week.” Ugan told him, then produced his cane and waved it in Berry’s direction. The smarting in his sinuses cleared immediately.

“Thanks, big guy,” Blackberry said. Ugan just grunted. “Yeah, let them know we’ll be there.”

“Great. Love running between here and Ul’dah.” Sarcasm deftly and flatly delivered, Ugan closed the door and left. Blackberry stared at the closed door, sighing. Next week? That was so far away…

In a momentary lapse of memory and judgement, he flopped backwards onto the ground and groaned.

“I’m so-”

Several bells later, Blackberry presented himself to the Blacksmith’s Guild, slightly charged and hair standing on end from the after-effects of aetherial lightning. They just assumed he was an eccentric - like most of their recruits.


	10. The Wolves' Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein bets are placed and a sparring match is watched.

“I’ve got three hundred on Berry,” Thancred announced, leaning against a wooden post. Though the cool sea air provided relief from the heat, the sun was unyielding, and so, his small group of spectators had gathered beneath one of the canopies at the Wolve’s Den. Seated haphazardly atop various crates and barrels were many of the other Scions. Urianger had surprisingly arrived voluntarily, and Yda had dragged Papalymo along. Y’shtola, Thancred believed, was secretly enjoying the spectacle almost as much as he was, though her cool facade was neutral, as ever. Tataru was on a bitter losing streak as far as bets were concerned, and the flush in her face was surely from more than just the heat.

Notably absent was Minfillia. Nothing Thancred said could convince her to take a day for herself and come to the Wolves’ Den. He believed it was because she detested the place - an obvious monument to the fragile peace off the alliance. 

Today, though, it was also a monument to his growing coin purse. 

“Doubtful anyone will take you up on that one,” Y’shtola said, resting her chin on her hand. “He has yet to lose.”

“A fair assessment,” Thancred conceded dramatically. “But surely our esteemed Warrior of Light tires eventually. He’s been at it for hours - look at him.”

Drawing attention to the Lalafell man was easy - he was currently the only one standing on the dock-made-arena that served as a sparring ground for Pups. He wielded an enormous padded training baton that was some sort of facsimile of his usual axe, but was otherwise armored as though he were going to fight a primal. A sheen of sweat was obvious on his brow even from here, though his stance belayed no fatigue. His previous opponents - a group of six Roegadyn who thought they could best him together - were presently limping away, soundly beaten.

“Your penchant for drama won’t serve you this time, I’m afraid.” Papalymo fanned himself idly with one hand, staring at Blackberry with a furrowed brow. “You won’t fool anyone. Our Warrior is still in peak form.” Thancred raised his hands in surrender, and then something behind their little gathering caught his eye, and he smiled. 

“Tell you what, then,” he said, snatching his fattened coin purse off of his waist and tossing it atop a nearby barrel. “Double or nothing - Berry loses to the next challenger!”

The collected Scions stared at him.

“You’re mad.” Yda pointed out. Thancred just shrugged, and Tataru piped up.

“I’ll take that action!” She declared, putting her much lightened coin pouch onto the same barrel. Thancred’s smile widened. Hook, line, and…

“Mistress Turi.” Urianger greeted with a nod of his head, as Kiora strode by the group. She gave a lazy wave to the Scions as she walked past. Thancred wiggled his eyebrows at Tataru, whose face had turned ashen. 

Sinker.

Kiora stepped onto the arena, and Blackberry greeted her enthusiastically. While she did not necessarily match his enthusiasm, she nonetheless began a series of stretches and exercises that were typical of her before engaging in combat. Thancred would commend her excellent form if it would not win him a venomous glare in response, so he kept his compliments to himself. Blackberry tossed his training baton to one side, and with a flick of his wrist and a flash of aether, his enormous black axe was in hand.

Tataru gasped, and Yda hooted. A live session, then. Even Y’shtola sat up in anticipation. 

After a minute or so of warm-ups, Blackberry asked Kiora if she was ready. She replied in the affirmative, and…

Well, they both charged, certainly. Whether or not you could call what Kiora did ‘charging’ exactly was up for debate, because while it advanced her forward, it did so with such frightening momentum and twisting of limbs that it appears like she was spinning through the air. She sailed bodily over Blackberry’s head, and landed three blows - heel, knee, palm - in quick succession onto the hapless Warrior.

Though this only encouraged him.

With speed that had doubtless proved useful when facing Ramuh, Blackberry hooked his axe in a wide circle and caught Kiora’s foot in the crook of the axehead before she even had a chance to land, and using his momentum, flung her with enough force that she should have flown into the ocean - maybe even skipped once or twice. And though she did fly away from the Warrior, a deft usage of leverage prevented her from being tossed from the arena, and she landed only a few yalms away. 

So it would proceed for another tense minute. Kiora’s speed, agility, and ferocity consistently found her with an apparent upper hand, but each time, instead of being able to capitalize on the damage, her assault emboldened Blackberry to perform greater feats of brute strength. Signs of exertion began to show on both combatants, and without knowing it, Thancred had completely forgotten about his gamble, and was instead solely focused on their dizzying technique.

So. This was the sort of strength that felled Primals. 

All seemed lost when Blackberry suddenly produced a chain that had been heretofore wrapped around the hilt of his axe, and used it to trip Kiora. While she was prone, Blackberry raised the flat of his axe high, prepared to bring the crushing what of it down upon her.

Then, with a literal gust of aetherial wind, Kiora spun with such ferocity that a twister appeared, staggering Blackberry. In the same moment, she landed several spinning kicks into his middle, each one propelling him - armor and all - into the air. Finally, she planted both feet upon his chest and pushed up from the ground, sending Blackberry into the sky.

And like a bolt of lightning - and a crack thereof - she was behind him, and brought her fist down savagely upon the middle of his back. The impact caused a shockwave. Yda gasped, Y’shtola stood, and Papalymo shouted something unintelligible. 

Blackberry shot to the ground as if fired out of a cannon…

And, like a dream, floated to a gentle stop before hitting the dock. Thancred did not know what was more shocking - that he began to float briskly out of the arena, towards them, or that Blackberry was still seemingly conscious. 

Unbeknownst to the Scions - save maybe Urianger - Ugan had arrived and taken up residence beside them amidst the melee. The gentle, aetherial nature of his magic in direct contrast with the annoyed, prickly look on his face. Blackberry ended his descent with Ugan holding him by the scruff of his neck, for all intents and purposes looking like a kitten being held by his mother.

“Ah, c’mon, Ugan! You made me lose.” Blackberry griped, struggling weakly. Ugan dropped him on the floor.

“Honey sent me to make sure you did not cause property damage she would have to pay for.” Ugan said flatly.

“Fair.” Blackberry said from the ground. Kiora trotted up, clearly satisfied. 

“Good one.” She commented, and immediately, Yda was upon her, asking her questions about her technique and generally pestering her. Papalymo was beside her in a flash, pestering her to stop pestering Kiora. Y’shtola’s tail was swishing back and forth thoughtfully, and she appeared to be having one of those wordless conversations with Urianger filled only with meaningful looks and nods. 

Thancred turned his attention to Tataru, who looked like she had swallowed a toad. He would feel bad taking her money, and so gave her a sympathetic smile as he took back his coin pouch.

“We’ll chalk that on up to outside interference.” He told her, and she immediately nodded, relieved. Thancred chuckled, and scratched his head, looking over at the Personnel. That Ugan would have the reflexes and control to snatch Berry from the air like that…

Madness. But he was glad their madness was on his side.


	11. Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Haurchefant can see the good in anything.

Ugan tapped his fingers idly against the oaken table, one hand covering his mouth as he stared, lost in thought, into the hearth. A strange series of events - intertwined with strange actions and inactions on Hydaelyn’s part - had seen fit to exile him and most of the Personnel from Ul’dah. The Scions were scattered, as they were in the time after Titan, and then, like now, Blackberry blamed himself. Joining him in the pity party was one Alphinaud Leveilleur, what with the betrayal of the Crystal Braves and the Scion’s being ousted from the Rising Stones. It all seemed a very complex tale of intrigue, misdirection, and mismanagement. Someone else might have sympathized.

Ugan found it all very dull. Leave it to mortals to shoot themselves in their collective foot. Was the Primal slaying to be left to the Alliance, then? More power to them. It mattered to Ugan not at all. He would have what he wanted, one way or another.

The sound of porcelain being placed beside him drew him out of his thoughts, and he glanced over to see one Haurchefant Greystone placing a cup next to him. The aroma wafted through his fingers - chocolate. Haurchefant had given them leave to use Fort Dragonhead as a base of operations until more permanent lodging could be found, and at this time, Blackberry was abroad with Honey, Tataru, and Alphinaud to look for it. For his part, Haurchefant was a sickeningly friendly fellow who had taken such a shine to the Warrior of Light that Ugan often wondered if the poor fool had been tempered.

Ugan had no desire to keep the man company, but he equally had no desire to forfeit the cocoa. Mortal cuisine had proven to be a singular weakness of his, and so, he grunted in something that could be considered thanks, and took the offered cup.

“I would have thought you would be accompanying them to Ishgard.” Haurchefant said, taking up residence beside Ugan and placing his own cup on the table.

“Honey didn’t want my sour disposition spoiling things.” Ugan muttered, sipping from the cup. It was… very good. Excellent, even. A perfect blend of cream and cocoa, with a hint of cinnamon. He stared at the cup for a moment. “...You must tell me how to make this.”

Haurchefant laughed, taken aback.

“A Fortemps secret, I’m afraid.” Haurchefant said, shrugging. The mischievous twinkle in his eye caused a coil of annoyance to lance through Ugan’s chest, but he suppressed it. “Do you cook?” Haurchefant continued, oblivious to Ugan’s feelings.

“...On occasion.” Ugan relented, knowing he would never get the recipe by threatening or pushing the man away. Besides, if Honey learned he was berating Haurchefant, there would be hell to pay. On the topic of cooking, there was little to discuss. The Source had many different ingredients, culinary traditions, and methods of cooking. Ugan had considered himself a gourmand of aether as a Voidsent, able to savor and identify different types, flavors, and compositions. Trapped as he was, the culinary arts scratched a similar itch. “I find the process and end result of cooking… pleasing.”

“I did not take you for the type.” Haurchefant said, though it was with an easy smile that assured Ugan he meant nothing by it. He need not have bothered with it - Ugan could not give less of a shite what this man thought of him. “Though if you cook for Berry, that certainly explains his fondness for you.”

“He could stand to be less fond.” Ugan growled, and drained the rest of his cup. “I daresay he could make friends with a voidsent.” A favorite joke of his, mostly because of its private irony. Haurchefant laughed at the obvious implication. He seemed to sober up momentarily, turning thoughtful.

“You know, I’d heard stories about you.” Haurchefant mentioned idly, leaning back in his chair. “The Black Conjurer they called you, with a manner like a butcher and the reckless power to match.”

“That’s the right of it.” Ugan confirmed, thoughts turning back to the hot chocolate. If he experimented, he could probably recreate it, but he would have to crystallize the flavor in his mind…

“I don’t see it.” Haurchefant said. Ugan did not catch it at first, deep in thought as he was, but the words processed slowly through his mind, and when they struck him, he gave Haurchefant a strange look. “I don’t see a butcher.”

Ugan blinked.

“...Would you like to?” Ugan wondered where this conversation was going, and wished that it would end. Unperturbed by the implied threat, Haurchfant just chuckled and soldiered on.

“My apologies, my friend. I would leave the wall you have built around yourself intact. I merely mention that I believe I can see over it, and what I have glimpsed is well and good.” Haurchefant stood, and smiled at Ugan. “The Warrior of Light trusts you with his life, after all. What must that say about your character?”

“...Blackberry’s an idiot.” Ugan pointed out, and Haurchefant held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, of course.” He said, and it sounded both understanding and condescending and, in that moment, Ugan was not sure he had ever hated anyone more in his entire existence. What would this man know of… anything? Least of all, of him? The urge to purge the man from the face of the star intensified in Ugan, rebelling against the idea of being known, and the implication that he could know him. The idea that he was here for any other reason than to prove the Mother Crystal well and truly wrong about the nature of mortals was laughable. He could not even begin to care about…

He glanced down at the cup. Distracted as he was, he had lost the memory of the flavor on his tongue. The thought filled him with-

He returned his attention to Haurchefant. Shackled as he was, he could do no more than scowl at the cheery man 

“Please, take your leisure until Berry returns, and let me know if I can do anything for you.” Haurchefant said by way of goodbye, and walked out of the ‘Falling Snows’.

Ugan stared darkly after the knight, but kept the uncomfortable churning in his breast to himself.

Later, at the Vault, he would watch in stunned silence as Haurchefant took a blow meant for Berry, and died. A blow Ugan never saw coming, and could not have prevented. Pride and anger swirled through him at the idea of being outdone by a mortal, and as Berry held the dying Haurchefant, only a single thought ran through Ugan’s mind.

He had never gotten the hot cocoa recipe from him, and now, he never would.


	12. Crucibles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a lesson is taught.

“Again.”

Alphinaud looked up from the report he was idly thumbing through while walking through the streets of Mor Dhona. Gloom hung heavy in the air, its scarlet, aetherial glow casting a pall useful for reading by but useless for just about anything else. The imperative that caught his attention was followed shortly by a crashing noise, and a growl of frustration. A familiar growl of frustration.

“Again.” Crash. Growl.

Quick to assess which direction the noise was coming from, and unable to resist investigating, he peered behind a high wall into a training yard, careful to remain hidden. Fortunately for him, both the individuals currently using the yard had their backs to him, and so he was able to observe unmolested.

“Again.” Ugan said, voice neutral but not flat or bored. A marked difference in the surly man. He stood with his arms folded and his stance wide, some distance away from an increasingly beleaguered training dummy. Alisiaie, dressed down in training garb and looking exhausted, brought her rapier and focus together, and what shortly followed was a crash of blue-black lightning that scored the training dummy. Sweat dripped from Alisaie’s brow, but even as the lightning dissipated, Ugan was already speaking.

“Again.”

And she did.

“Again.”

And she did.

“Again.”

And… she fell to one knee, panting. Ugan waited exactly one heartbeat. “Again.” He growled, insistent. Alphinaud frowned as Alisaie struggled to stand, and his alarm increased when Ugan stepped forward, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and dragged her to her feet. She maintained her balance - barely - and brought rapier to focus once more.

The bolt of lightning was pitiful, and missed the target entirely. Alisaie only stayed on her feet by virtue of using her blade as a crutch. Ugan stared impassively at the tiny scorch mark on the wall slightly above the target dummy.

“...Again.” He said, and Alphinaud knew he had to step forward.

“Enough!” He cried, voice perhaps more shrill than he was anticipating. Ugan struck a singularly imposing figure, garbed as he usually was in his thick leather coat and armor. Additionally, Alphinaud had seen the genesis of his fearsome reputation firsthand. He knew the man was standoffish - to put it kindly - and he also knew that Alisaie had taken a shine to the power and confidence he projected. Even so… that was his sister and he would not stand idly by as she was so poorly treated. “She is exhausted.”

At his words, Alisaie lost balance once more, and fell to her knee again. Even so, she glared balefully at Alphinaud, and he knew she hated his interference. Was she not going to be content until she collapsed? Ugan’s face remained neutral, but he looked down at Alisaie.

“...Well?” He posed the question, ambiguous and yet filled with portent. Alphinaud already knew the answer, because he knew his sister. She would never give up, so singular was her drive. Whatever Ugan was trying to teach her, she would not stop until she mastered it. But she needed to rest. Take her ease for a few moments, at the very least.

Shakily, Alisaie stood. Ugan smirked, and turned his attention back to Alphinaud, an evil glint in his eye.

“It seems your ‘well-meaning interjection’ has been denied.” Ugan said, and turned back to the dummy. “Again!” He shouted, and Alisaie began focusing once more. He could see the strain in her arms as she did so, and his heart fell.

“Alisaie, please!” He called, but she ignored him, eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Go back to your books.” Ugan jeered, waving a hand dismissively. “Hide behind your carbuncle and sniveling niceties. Your sister seeks true power, and will find it more surely than you ever will.” 

Alphinaud blanched at the venom in Ugan’s voice and the personal nature of the insult. Before he could form a rebuttal, however, Alisaie growled.

“Don’t… talk to him… like that…” She managed through gritted teeth, still trying to focus what aether she could into her spell. Ugan’s face registered a modicum of surprise, but then he glared down at her.

“Are you going to stop me?” He accused, stepping close to loom over her, and gestured at the target dummy. “With spells like that?” As he spoke, it seemed a realization dawned on him, and he grew a sinister grin. “Perhaps if you had half the power of your primal grandfather…”

Alphinaud gasped, but Alisaie… Alisaie roared. Such a terrible sound of fury he had never heard from his sister before, and a surge of aetherial lightning lance outwards from her in a deafening, thunderous boom, obliterating the target dummy and a good chunk of stone behind it. Without even registering her success, she whirled on Ugan and began swinging her blade wildly - dangerously - and Ugan…

Ugan was laughing.

He caught her blade in one hand, heedless of it cutting his palm, and pulled it out of her grip. With a flick of his free wrist, her focus went spiraling away, and he threw her blade some distance as well. Unfettered, Alisaie continued her assault unarmed, though Ugan simply let her attack him at this point. It was not long until her fury was spent, and she collapsed to the floor - for the third time - heaving with great sobs.

Alphinaud ran quickly to her side, scowling at Ugan.

“How could you be so cruel?” He accused. Once more, Ugan’s face was carefully neutral, none of the demonic glee present any longer.

“More cruel than Garuda?” Ugan retorted, voice flat. “More cruel than Thordan? Than Bahamut? A gentle crucible produces results such as these…” He gestured towards the half dozen or so intact training dummies. “And a cruel one…” He pointed at the small crater Alisaie had made. “Cruelty is a given. Power to overcome it is not.”

Then, to Alphinaud’s surprise, he got on one knee, to be at a better level to look at him. His face was grim, serious. He reached out with his cut hand, and raised Alisaie’s chin. She met his eyes briefly, distraught, but looked away. “Did Berry just scold the Primals for being cruel? Or did he destroy them? So must it be. The cruel are strong, and the kind must be stronger if they are to prevail.”

Ugan pressed his hands together, mending the wound and his ruined glove simultaneously. Then, he stood.

“Which are you then?” Alisaie managed, voice hoarse. “Kind, or cruel?”

Ugan was silent for a moment, and then produced his cane. With a wave and an incantation, a gentle light enveloped Alisaie, and Alphinaud heard his sister sigh in relief. 

“I am what I need to be.” Ugan told them. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow - White Magic. Don’t be late.”

He strode away. Alphinaud helped his sister up, but she waved him off halfway through standing, wiping her eyes. And… she was smiling. She turned to survey her handiwork, hands on her hips.

“I can’t believe I did that…!” She whispered triumphantly, and Alphinaud sighed - heavily, fondly, and too quiet for her to hear.

“Yes, yes, your burgeoning mastery of the arcane is a sight to behold.” He told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Sarcasm aside, he smiled at her proudly as she grinned at him. “Your choice in mentor however…”

“He’s effective.” Alisaie said simply, although defensively, and walked to retrieve her discarded weapons. 

“I find Honey to be of a more agreeable temperament.” Alphinaud pointed out. “And she is no less skilled.”

“Well, when I asked her to give me pointers she told me she charges five hundred thousand gil an hour for tutoring.” Alisaie explained, hooking the focus to the rapier and hanging the whole implement from her belt.

“Five hundred thousand…!” Alphinaud exclaimed. Hourly? Such a sum their parents would be hard pressed to pay bi-yearly, let alone by the hour! Not that they relied on their parents funds, but from the perspective of tutoring fees...

“I know!” Alisaie told him, and then put her arm around his shoulder. “Forget about that. Let’s go get lunch.”

Alphinaud rubbed his forehead, but agreed. Best to put this little event behind them, for the time being.


	13. A Salient Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a discussion takes place between the well-learned Scions and Thancred

“...It doesn’t come up very often, admittedly.” Honey offered politely, sipping her tea.

Y’shtola stared - as well as she could - keeping her expression carefully neutral. Gathered around her were some of the most trusted scholarly minds she knew. They had retreated to the balcony parlor in Mor Dhona to discuss a sensitive topic and, knowing they would be there for some time, Y’shtola had had the foresight to arrange for tea. Seated around the table, in no particular order was Krile, Urianger, Papalymo, and Honey Muffin - around but not about whom the discussion was centered. A small distance away, Thancred was watching the meeting, arms folded, with a frown. He had insisted to be let in on the proceedings, but had so far not deigned to add anything.

“It doesn’t come up…?” Krile parroted in disbelief. “I believe making your compatriots aware you have been travelling with a bound voidsent would be the first order of business!”

“Would it?” Honey countered, placing her cup down and gazing at all of them somberly. “Now that you know, what will you do with the information, exactly?”

“That is the purpose of this discussion.” Y’shtola cut in diplomatically. “Neither the implications of Ugan’s nature nor the effort he has committed to aiding our cause can be ignored.”

“Tis plain Ugan’s nature hath been somewhat suppressed.” Urianger mentioned, voice thoughtful. As he spoke, he did not even look up from the hole he was boring into the table with his gaze. “The consequences otherwise would be equally plain. The nature of this suppression, however…”

“Obviously, it's Hydaelyn.” Honey told them, sighing. “Why else would he have the Echo?” Papalymo hummed in agreement with the other Lalafell, arms folded and eyes closed. He had yet to add anything to the discussion, and did not seem intent to do so now.

“Why would Hydaelyn bestow her blessing upon a Voidsent?” Krile demanded, folding her arms. Her tea remained untouched.

There was a thick silence as that question was posed. Y’shtola frowned. That was the crux of the issue, of course. None here knew the Mother Crystal’s will, and neither was Ugan forthcoming with the circumstances of his… existence. In fact, had Y’shtola not lost her sight in the Lifestream and began relying on sensing aether instead, she may have never noticed the towering cacophony of darkness that was Ugan Thais. She had kept the mass of Ugan’s aether private - but she certainly had never seen or heard of such a large concentration of it. 

Ever since she had first laid eyes upon him upon waking in Gridania, this had been chief among her many worries. As time had conspired against them and they yet needed Ugan’s assistance, she had forestalled this discussion for a time. Now, with a moment to breathe...

“Does it matter?” Thancred said lightly, from behind them. Y’shtola did not turn around - she did not have to. Everyone else, however, looked in his direction. Krile seemed annoyed, but Honey gave Thancred an expectant look. For his part, he just shrugged. “I’ve known Ugan longer than all of you. He’s a surly jackarse, but he’s always been there when he was needed.” Thancred pushed off the wall he was leaning on, and walked towards the table. “Sometimes when he wasn’t. Whatever he was, he is now a Scion and ally. Why second guess it?” He snatched a biscuit off the table and popped it into his mouth.

“...Loathe though I am to admit such, Thancred provides a salient point.” Urianger sighed, and folded his hands over the table, looking up at the lot of them. “Our options, to whit, have been twixt allowing or denying him. ‘Twould be a simple matter to continue as we have.”

“He would object to us turning him away regardless.” Honey pointed out. “While I do not fear confronting him, his power is not to be understated. What he might do if cornered does not bear speculation.”

“And, pledged to our aid as he is, that power is better used in pursuit of our goals regardless…” Y’shtola conceded, shaking her head. Krile slapped her open palm on the table.

“I have sensed naught but contempt and spite from him since the first moment I laid eyes upon him.” She told them, and Y’shtola was not sure she had ever seen her so… animated. Or distressed. It was true that her Echo gave her unique insight…

“One need not bear your unique gift to sense as much, Krile.” Papalymo finally interceded, opening his eyes. “Ugan’s temperament has passed from circumstance to practically legend. He tries the patience of the Padjal. I believe I speak truly when I say that Blackberry is the only one among us who is yet oblivious to his caustic demeanor.”

There was a low murmur of agreement from those gathered.

“Even so,” Papalymo continued, “he has proven a staunch, well-intentioned ally time and again. If nothing else he has earned himself the right to be informed of our concerns and be given an opportunity to defend himself. That we confer on this matter without him speaks to our grave concern, yes, but also to our misguided cowardice.”

He looked over the lot of them sternly, and none but Honey and Thancred could meet his gaze. Thancred even seemed amused.

“In fairness, Ugan can be difficult to work with even when you aren’t insinuating that he desires to undermine everything we have fought for.” Honey pointed out evenly. “But, Papalymo is right - that’s why I never intended him to be left out of the conversation.” She brushed back her short hair, revealing a linkpearl - slightly modified - within her ear.

Y’shtola placed her palm squarely over her face. Krile and Urianger had the decency to look scandalized, and Thancred actually laughed. Laughed!

Honey made a face, and momentarily held the linkpearl away from her ear. Then, she looked flatly at those gathered.

“Ugan has personally saved Blackberry’s life more times than I can count. And even though-” She scowled suddenly, and put the linkpearl back into her ear “-will you shut up!” She hissed, and then tossed the linkpearl on the table with an annoyed sigh. “...That is to say, without him, there would be no Scions, and there would certainly be no Warrior of Light.”

In the contemplative silence that followed, only Krile still seemed displeased. Thancred took the opportunity to snatch the linkpearl off the table and place it in his ear.

“It’s Thancred.” He said, walking away, and then laughed. “That’s what I told them! Did you hear what Papalymo said? I can’t believe…” The conversation was lost around the corner.

Y’shtola would have words with the man later. But, given recent events… Well. Perhaps it was best to let him have whatever happiness he found. 

“I believe the purpose of this meeting has been suitably mangled.” She told everyone, sighing. “If Honey vouches for him - and we know Blackberry does - then they can take responsibility if something happens. Agreed?”

Honey nodded at that, and hopped off the chair to march off - undoubtedly to retrieve her linkpearl from Thancred. Krile seemed discontent, but she shortly smiled tiredly at Y’shtola.

“One more thing to leave in the hands of the Warrior of Light, I suppose?” She asked, hopping down from the chair.

“Would that we could do more.” Y’shtola replied simply. Krile shook her head, and took her leave, followed shortly by Urianger, who had an air of investigative research about him as he stepped away deep in thought.

Which left Y’shtola alone with Papalymo.

“It was not my intention to scold you all.” Papalymo offered after a long silence. “He has earned our trust, and the idea of that we sat in judgement… rankled.”

“You are right.” Y’shtola replied, sighing and picking up her now lukewarm cup of tea. It had long been neglected, and she would rectify that before it became cold, at the least. “I will admit I may have panicked.”

“I can only imagine how he must appear to you that you reacted so.” Papalymo leaned forward in his chair, concern plain on his face. Y’shtola knew she would never be able to keep the secret of her affliction from him, and so had not tried to hide it. It spoke to Papalymo’s power of deduction that he had already discovered the specifics. “...Does it pain you?”

Y’shtola shook her head. Papalymo sighed.

“It is in times like these that I think of Louisoix most fondly.” He stands up, and rounds the table to stand beside her for a moment. “He would like Ugan, I think. He would trust him. Sentimentality may be overtaking me in this regard, but I find that reason enough to give Ugan the benefit of the doubt.”

“The Archon is sorely missed.” Y’shtola murmured, though she smiled softly at Papalymo. “When you chided us so, it was almost as though he were back.” Papalymo looked away in embarrassment, and cleared his throat.

“Yes, well. I left Yda in the care of Kiora. Undoubtedly, she will be covered in bruises by the time I find her again.” With that, he gave a short wave, and left to find his wayward charge. Y’shtola did not watch him go, and instead stared at nothing in particular, mind lost in thought of voidsent, Warriors, and lost mentors.


	14. Any Way the Wind Blows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Salem takes the boys to the Gold Saucer

“C’mon, daddy needs a new pair of boots!” Salem cried as the wheel was spun. The excitable miqo’te’s tail swished back and forth as he leaned over the railing, watching with gleaming eyes as the ball bounced around from red, to black, back to red… It continued to spin.

“You need a new shirt.” Ugan pointed out, watching the wheel with less enthusiasm but watching it regardless. Salem’s choice of a form-fitted crop top that left his washboard midsection exposed was certainly a bold choice, but he certainly was not going to run around in that heavy leather jacket Ugan was always wearing. He just turned around and winked lasciviously at the Au Ra.

“You love it.” He did not have to stop and wait for Ugan’s lip to curl up and his eyes to roll - it was the usual response, and he was more interested in the wheel than the persnickety healer anyway.

“These are long odds, even for you.” Brute pointed out, frowning. He was standing beside his ‘cousin’, and Salem had to admit, with shared serious expressions and furrowed brows, they did actually look fairly similar. “You recompense what you’ve lost if you win, but if you don’t…” 

“Do you think you’ll win this time?” Blackberry asked, standing on a stool to peer over the railing. Salem knew he was fairly bored, mostly because they were not currently fighting for their lives or otherwise bludgeoning something to death. But leisure was important! What better place to spend a relaxing evening than the Gold Saucer? The music, the lights… the money.

The wheel slowed to a stop.

Black.

“Fuck.” Salem growled, hanging his head.

Well, the music and the lights were a thing.

“Bad luck, darling.” The proprietor of the wheel, a slim hyuran woman in the saucer’s signature bunny outfit, told him with well-practiced sympathy. “Another spin?” Salem was about to agree, but Thancred put a hand on his shoulder.

“I think you’ve lost enough money for the night.” He told Salem cautiously. “Let’s move on.” Salem gave Thancred the best wide-eyed pouting he could manage, but the man was like a stone, so instead, he conceded defeat and left the wheel behind. Blackberry hopped off his stool and followed at a brisk pace, while Ugan stalked behind them. Seated some distance away was Urianger, who had taken up residence on some of the plentiful seating while Salem worked the wheel - or got worked, as the case was.

Urianger, of course, was reading, and put a strip of cloth in place as the group approached him, and stood to follow them to wherever his next seat was.

Salem had organized a night out at the Gold Saucer for the menfolk in their group mostly because he thought it would be fun, but also because he thought all these stressed workaholics needed a break. Brute was an easy sell - he would go anywhere with Salem. Berry agreed mostly because he would agree to almost anything at least once, and Thancred never turned down a chance to go to the Saucer. Ugan, surprisingly, had not taken much convincing, although he did not appear to be enjoying himself. The five of them had successfully browbeat Urianger, though no amount of bullying had been able to convince Papalymo to join them. In fact, when Papalymo had begun lecturing them instead, they had decided it was best to slink away before they got sat down for the evening.

Lastly, Alphinaud was still too young to come to the Saucer. Or at least, do all the things at the Saucer that they were going to be doing.

Like… drinking! Salem snagged a champagne glass off the tray of a passing server and tossed some MGP to her. She shot him an annoyed look, but he just winked and downed the glass.

“Tell you what,” he said suddenly, spinning on his heel to face the too-dour group. “They have a new attraction - remember Typhon?”

Thancred and Urianger shared a quizzical look, though Ugan made a face like he had been kicked in the groin.

“Oh! Yeah! That was a tough one.” Blackberry chimed in.

“Right - well, the Saucer hired him to run a little test of dexterity.” Salem waggled his eyebrows. “We should give it a shot - see who can stay in the longest?” As they rounded the corner and the arena came into view, Salem grinned. Typhon floated in the center of it, and even from this distance, the breeze of his wind magick could be felt. Hapless competitors were caught up in seemingly random gusts and drafts, and swiftly deposited into the cushioned outer ring. Off to one side, a queue had formed for would be competitors.

“...I shall take mine leisure and watch from afar.” Urianger said immediately. Salem was beside him in a moment, plucking the book from his hand - despite protest - and shaking his head.

“Not this time, my studious friend!” Salem sang. “We must test ourselves! What quick feet hide beneath those scholarly robes of yours? What discerning eyes beneath the goggles?”

“He’s not going to let you sit this one out.” Thancred told Urianger, shrugging. “Best to humor him.”

Urianger frowned, but conceded. Salem slapped his back and laughed.

Blackberry was already getting pumped as they got in line, doing stretches and squats. Ugan and Thancred shared neutral expressions, though Thancred watched the ongoing event, and Ugan appeared to have no interest. Salem, though. Salem was excited.

When it came to their little Free Company, none could boast to be stronger than Blackberry. His single-minded determination and love for battle easily set him aside as their most staunch and powerful combatant. The title of Warrior of Light had been bestowed to him, after all, despite the fact that they walked in lock-step with him. Yes, Blackberry was the strongest. And when it came to speed, none could match the blistering pace of Kiora, who had been known to outrun lightning bolts. Honey was second to none in judicious application of destructive force, and Ugan held claim to the title of having a will like iron, with the obstinance to match. Delphyne’s grace rivaled the Padjal, the Brute’s mechanical expertise was on par with Cid’s, and Lao’s eye for strategy made him invaluable in their endeavors.

But Salem…

Salem was flexible. He had to be. He could not resist a single scar marring his otherwise stunning physique. With the practice of someone who was able to slip out of places they were supposed to be and slip into places they were not, he was able to dance across life and battlefield alike with nary a scratch on him. It made him the go-to candidate whenever something delicate needed handling - everyone besides Delphyne was more like a hammer, and she lacked the necessary fortitude for some of the more long-form jobs.

It was good. It was even decent money, sometimes. Money best spent on supplies before he pissed it away somewhere unfortunate. Like the Gold Saucer.

Shortly, they were entering the arena, Typhon hovering in the center, his grotesque bulk quivering with the force of contained wind. As they walked on, he turned his larger face to regard them, and then blanched and looked away. Fair enough - last time they had crossed, they had beaten him near to unconsciousness. Salem was a let bygones be bygones kind of guy, though, so he would not hold it against him. Shortly, their small group was positioned around the platform, with a few more competitors to fill out the roster. The announcer began some sort of spiel for the onlookers, which was short-lived, and then, the countdown began.

Salem’s tail twitched in anticipation. Typhon swelled…

The bell rang, and with a great whirlwind gust, the competition began. For the first few seconds, Salem just watched Typhon’s movements for tells. Unsurprisingly, Urianger and some of the less fleet of foot competitors got knocked off in the first few moments. Salem did not believe Urianger had tried very hard, and was vindicated for that belief when Urianger produced his book before he had even gotten up from the cushions. It was not long before Typhon’s whirlwind assault had left only Thancred, Ugan, Brute, Berry, and himself on the platform.

Like him, Thancred was light on his feet and shrewd. Bery had mostly resisted Typhon’s gusts through a combination grit and determination, despite being struck full in the face a few times. Brute had done much the same, but he was beginning to flag. Ugan was… just standing there. Arms folded, glaring balefully at Typhon, as though he was daring him to send a gust of wind his way. Whether it was luck or actual intimidation, he had not moved from where he stood when the match started. 

Another round of whirlwind blasts targeting everyone on the platform - except Ugan - saw Brute lose his footing and, much to the dismay of the Warrior of Light, scramble to hold onto the much smaller man for purchase. This only succeeded in causing both of them to tumble head over heels off the stage, as Berry could not handle both the force of the tempest and the weight of the Brute. Salem blew a kiss to his fallen comrades, and continued to focus on the task at hand.

The next several seconds were fraught with close-calls and near-misses. Salem grinned at the challenge, though Thancred was glaring balefully at both he and Ugan. Ugan, of course, held his gaze fixed upon Typhon. Whatever he was doing to convince Typhon to leave him alone was working, but it was also cheating. How to solve the conundrum…

First things first, he would have to outlast Thancred. That took longer than expected, but not terribly long, as eventually a stray gust caut him mid leap and sent him tumbling onto the cushion below. He sat up with a curse, punching one of the pillows, before blowing out a sigh and waving his concession. Which just left the matter of his morose, be-jacketed friend…

Salem gave it another fifteen seconds to make it obvious that Typhon was avoiding striking Ugan with any gusts at all. Collaboration, or…? Salem cartwheeled around another blast, and then ducked and slid to avoid being caught by the invisible tailwind. Typhon’s distorted faces contorted further in frustration at Salem’s antics, and he suddenly had an idea. He broke into a full sprint as Typhon refilled himself, then leapt into the air, twirled, winked at the Voidsent, and slapped his own ass.

This had the anticipated effect of enraging Typhon, and he began firing off a series of extremely small, fast bullets of wind at Salem as he raced around the stage. He would not be able to stay ahead of them forever, but fortunately, he did not need to. Ugan, whose eyes had remained on Typhon, blanched as Salem dashed in front of him. Typhon’s assault was unrelenting, and even as Salem ran in front of Ugan, he fired off another heavy blast…

Salem ducked and spun himself beneath it.

Ugan took the full force of the blast, and was flung bodily from the platform. It was a shame Salem’s face was to the floor - he would have loved to see the look on Ugan’s face. 

As the last one standing, Salem stood, and bowed, tossing the dismayed Voidsent another wink as he sauntered off the platform. Typhon twirled in a circle and vanished with a strange popping noise as Ugan stood up, rage plain on his face.

“You’d better run!” He bellowed, raising his fist. He turned his attention to Salem, who hopped off the platform and watched him smugly. “...Ugh. That was well done.” Ugan conceded, the anger leaving him. Salem wiggled his eyebrows at the compliment. Ugan sneered and stomped away, even as everyone else trotted up to congratulate him. 

The adrenaline from the competition appeared to get everyone else into better spirits, and Salem was more easily able to convince them to lighten up and enjoy themselves afterwards. Even when Ugan, Urianger, and Brute broke off to play Mahjong and everyone else went to wager on a Triple Triad tournament, Salem had already decided the night had been a success.


	15. Ablutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein solitude is not found within the bathhouse.

Ugan hung his coat on the coat rack, and began unbuckling the armor around his heavy gloves. The basement floor of the company house was a dedicated bath house - artfully designed by Honey Muffin and funded by the company’s endeavors. While he did not have much time to himself - the majority of it spent making sure Berry was still among the living - what little free time he did have, he spent on relaxing ablutions or with Benedict in the kitchen. After they had returned from their most recent foray into the primal Alexander, Ugan felt the sort of bone-deep weariness that so plagued mortals. Deepest pits, highest heights…

Ugan did away with the gloves with a sigh, followed shortly by his equally heavy boots, and then his more loose-fitting shirt and pants. He snagged a folded robe - laundered and placed here by the ever attentive Benedict - wrapped it around himself, and stepped into the bath house proper. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. Given the hour that they had returned, it would have given Ugan pause to find anyone…

Hm. Ugan eyed a discarded robe off to one side of the farthest bath. From where he stood, however, the bath appeared empty. He began running the possibilities through his head. Salem and Brute had retired, both as exhausted as he was but without the itch to clean themselves before they slept. Berry had been sleeping since almost before they had left Idyllshire - Ugan had himself dumped the lalafell onto the couch upstairs. Honey bathed at the same time every morning, and Delphyne preferred to take herself afield than avail herself of the facilities. It could be Kiora, had she not stayed behind to speak with Khloe. So then…

Come to think of it, Ugan had been told that they had had a visitor, when the urgent missive had reached them about a breakthrough regarding the primal. In fact, the visitor had come in order to discuss the prevented appearance of other primals. Already they had felled Sephirot, Sophia, and Zurvan. Given Honey’s predisposition to entertain social visits at the company house, and her fondness for the boy, she had invited Unukalhai for lunch before they had been called away. Undoubtedly, Benedict had taken excellent care of the boy while they had been away. Why he was bathing at this time of night, however, Ugan could not explain.

Ugan stared at the far tub, and counted.

To his credit, Unukalhai managed nearly another full minute before he quietly resurfaced - holding his mask in place with one hand - and found Ugan staring at him. He made a strangled, sputtering noise, and Ugan smirked, but otherwise accosted him no further. If the boy feared him, it was well that he should. He wondered if he knew they came from the same place - that World of Darkness. Unukalhai had fled from it, and Ugan had been born of it. How strange the threads of fate that wove them together. He, a failed hero, and Ugan, the result of his failed heroics.

Ugan availed himself of an adjacent tub, discarding his robe and stretching out. This body was long and ill-suited to many accommodations in Eorzea, but the tubs were more than capable of allowing him room. He let the tension bleed from his shoulders, spread out his arms, and closed his eyes. 

Shortly, he felt something tickle the back of his head. Nothing physical - just the sensation of being watched. The sort of itch that came from the near sixth-sense born from bearing the Echo. The lack of hostility certainly dulled the sensation, but it was there regardless.

“What?” Ugan demanded testily of Unukalhai, who had undoubtedly hoped his staring had gone unnoticed. There was the sound of lapping water as Unukalhai shifted in the adjacent tub.

“Forgive me, it is nothing.” The child said, and Ugan did not press him further. Staring, he was used to. Staring after being reprimanded, however… That was more novel. And continue to stare, Unukalhai did.

“Speak your mind before the weight of whatever it is you want to say kills you.” Ugan growled after a few distinctly un-relaxing minutes. 

“My apologies…” Unukalhai murmured, and Ugan was about to round on him, but the boy went on. “You… remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Used to?” Ugan asked, curiosity piqued. Someone from the thirteenth? “Not your erstwhile mentor, then.”

“No.” Unukalhai replied simply, though did not provide any additional information. Ugan let the silence hang for a time, but now that the boy had his attention, he was loath to let the subject go.

“A friend of yours, then?” Ugan asked, adding a bit of sarcasm to his tone. “Died when the thirteenth fell?”

“...Yes.” Unukalhai said quietly, and Ugan cracked one eye open. Hm. The boy was reserved - to say the least. That he would offer any information at all is surprising.

“And I have just now reminded you of them?” Ugan pressed, sitting up and turning his face towards the boy, without actually looking at him. “Did you often bathe together, then?”

“Ah… No.” Unukalhai, with only the barest hint of embarrassment in his voice. “It is something I have thought on often. I have never had an opportunity to broach the subject, however, as you always seemed… disinclined towards conversation.”

Ugan snorted. The kid was polite, at least. There was something in his voice… or maybe it was just the fact that Ugan was exhausted. Maybe it was both. But there was something that made Ugan pause and, instead of continuing to jab at the boy, instead he just turned away from him.

“...Tell me about them.” Ugan prompted, and after a short surprised silence, the boy cleared his throat.

“Well, he looked similar to you… though he lacked your distinct, um…”

“Tattoo.” Ugan said.

“...Truly?”

Ugan just shrugged.

“...Well yes, he didn’t have that, and he wore his hair differently but you are otherwise very similar. He also was possessed of vast magical prowess, as you are. However…”

A long pause.

“The similarities end there.” Ugan observed.

“...Indeed. He was a consummate scholar, staunch defender of the innocent, and gentle giver of succor to the weak. Wherever he went, the light of kindness was sure to follow. Even so…” Ugan gave him the time to come to terms with what he wanted to say, focusing instead on the far end of the room, and wondered why he was sitting here, listening placidly to a child talk about his friends. It was both unlike him and, on some fundamental level, deeply irksome. Somehow, however, he could not rouse his ire towards the boy. “Even so… it was not enough. In the end he was the last line of defense between us and the darkness, and he gave all to keep it from us.”

“...Noble.” Ugan noted, before clicking his tongue. “If foolish. You would have been claimed by the darkness as well, eventually. Had the Ascians not snatched you from the jaws of your dying world.”

“An observation I have made myself.” Unukalhai responded dryly, before his tone softened. “I have oft wondered what possessed him, at the end, to give all for so hopeless a cause. To throw himself upon the pyre first, to forestall our destruction for mere moments. Was it rage against his helplessness? Did he wish to face oblivion having exhausted all else, and have no regrets? Or was it just because he could not bear the idea of the dark consuming us? I fear I will never know.”

“Actions speak louder than words.” Ugan said. “His reasoning doesn’t matter - what he did speaks for itself. It was foolish, but selfless. You needn’t agonize over what was in his mind - he has already shown you what was in his heart.”

The silence stretched on, and Ugan felt more than heard that Unukalhai was crying quietly. It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong, and a few tears would not be noticed within the separate pools of water in which they sat. Berry had once said that it was easy to forget that Unukalhai was still a child, which had been met with a chorus of agreements. For Ugan, however, such had always been obvious - and never more so than when he stumbled. Weeping was not a failing, but it certainly did not strike Ugan as very adult, either.

At least there was quiet, now, and Ugan sank into it gratefully.

Unukalhai broke it, after a time - as Ugan knew he would. Mortals were wont to mince words and, whether through the pliability of his own exhaustion or some newfound affinity with the boy, he let him speak.

“Thank you,” the boy said, voice calm and free of the thickness of sorrow. “...I did not think you were given to kind words.”

“I speak only the truth.” Ugan muttered. “If the truth is unkind, so are my words.”

“There is wisdom in that.”

Ugan grunted in agreement, but let the thought hang in the air.

“I would have a truth out of you, then.” He demanded instead. “Why are you in the bathhouse at this ungodly hour?”

“I… had wished to bathe undisturbed.” Unukalhai admitted, and Ugan snorted, which was about as close as he could manage towards a laugh at the moment.

“We had the same wish.”

“If wishes were fishes, never we’d starve.” Unukalhai intoned, almost sing-song. Immediately, a lance of pain spiked through Ugan’s head and his vision swam, going white at the edges. The familiar sound of the Echo ringed through his skull, and he found himself looking down at Unukalhai, though his surroundings were… unfamiliar. The boy was wearing different clothing as well, well-suited to travel and with actual color. And he was smiling - actually smiling.

“...never we’d starve.” He heard himself saying, though his voice was different, and he could feel…

The vision swam away, and with it, whatever feeling had accompanied it. Ugan’s breath was labored, however, and though he had not yet put his head below water, there was wet on his face. From thrashing during the vision, no doubt. He ignored the stinging behind his eyes.

“Is all well?” He heard Unukalhai ask, and it rushed him back into his body. With a silent curse, he splashed water on his face. Hydaelyn’s Echo, as usual, had extraordinarily inconvenient timing and content.

“Yes.” Ugan bit out, perhaps more harshly than he intended. “What was that you said? An idiom?”

“Ah… yes. A saying my departed friend was fond of.”

Ugan hummed, letting that information flow into and then out of him, as he refused to hold onto it, or think anymore on this ‘friend’ of Unukalhai’s. Without a reply, neither of them had ought to talk about any longer, and it was not long before Unukalhai finished his bath and departed with a quiet goodbye. Alone in the bathhouse, Ugan stared at his hands in the water, wondering what other baggage this body had saddled him with, and trying his best to dispel the intense sorrow that had invaded his chest.


	16. Ill-Concealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Alisaie is momentarily distracted.

Alisaie blew her bangs out of her eyes, bored. Very bored. Alphinaud was delivering some report or another to Maelstrom Command - undoubtedly related to the Scion business with Titan - and he had asked her to accompany him with the promise that they would visit the Bismarck afterwards. His treat. Alisaie had never turned down a free lunch, and she was not about to start when it came to the premiere fine-dining restaurant of Limsa Lominsa. Unfortunately, it appeared as though something had come up, as he had left her sitting in the - fortunately shaded - aetheryte plaza for nearly half a bell. Given the time of day - noon - it seemed most people had opted for the indoors, as it was nearly midsummer. This left the plaza mostly free of traffic, and she found herself idly people watching to pass the time.

A handful of adventurers had appeared over the course of her time in the plaza with the distinctive thrumming noise that accompanied such travel. No one she recognized, but notably one Hrothgar. She had taken a vague interest, as she had never met one in person and was mostly familiar with them from an academic standpoint. She did her best not to stare, and it seemed her attention went mostly unnoticed as the man went about his business. She would ask Alphinaud later if the Scions worked with any Hrothgar. It would be interesting to learn more about them.

Shortly, the aetheryte hummed once more, and a familiar figure appeared out of the dull flash. Ugan Thais squinted into the Lominsan sun with his usual look of distaste. With a wave of his hand, his usual heavy leather coat and well-armored gear vanished into the aether, replaced with a sleeveless, form-fit top and a pair of… very tight denim pants. She had been halfway towards calling to him in order to alleviate some of her boredom - he would be good for a chat while she waited - but her resolve died in her throat as he changed, evidently unable to find itself past the dryness that had settled there. Rarely had she seen Ugan dressed in anything other than his battle-ready attire. But then, rarely had she seen him other than when he was off to or returning from battle. Their training sessions, occasional as they were, also warranted such attire as they had a tendency to get… animated.

She had always enjoyed his willingness to engage with her honestly, and without reservation. A refreshing change from the mewling milquetoast tutors in Sharlayan who had been more concerned about their reputation than her learning anything of use. 

Tutors were the furthest thing from her mind at the moment, however. As a mage, she had never imagined Ugan would be so… statuesque. She had never seen him exercise, though she had heard him refuse Berry’s offer of training several dozen times. He must, apparently - or perhaps his physique was a matter of the rugged, adventuring lifestyle he led. She wondered if she would ever boast muscles like that. Large, but smooth… firm…

Alisaie blinked.

While she had been staring Ugan had rummaged through a pack slung over his shoulder, and produced a wide-brimmed fishing hat. Odd. He jammed it on his head, and did not notice her as he turned the other direction and promptly exited the aetheryte plaza. She kept her eyes on him until he disappeared from view, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps the heat of the day was getting to her…

The sound of someone clearing their throat from behind her nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. She certainly jumped up from the stone bench she had been sitting on. She whirled to find Alphinaud staring at her flatly.

“You cannot be serious.” He said, clipped voice full of disbelief. Alisaie gave him a blank look.

“About what?” Alisaie demanded, immediately feeling defensive. What was with that accusatory tone? Alphinaud looked from her, to the aetheryte, where Ugan had been standing, and then back to her.

“You were practically ogling him.” Alphinaud explained, the disapproving look he gave her not at all concealing the mischievous glint in his eye. “I observed you for a full minute. You were dead to the world.” Uncomfortably, and not at all due to the heat, Alisaie felt warmth begin to rise into her face.

“I… was not!” Alisaie countered lamely, and desperately. It even sounded so to her own ears, so she folded her arms and scowled. “What business is it of yours, at any rate?”

“Why would I not have business with the object of my sister's ill concealed affections?” Alphinaud responded, although he had the tact to keep his voice low, despite the lack of potential eavesdroppers. “Ill concealed and ill directed, I might add.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alisaie demanded hotly, taking a step towards him. Usually, she could browbeat Alphinaud into dropping a subject with sufficient force, but it seemed this subject he was wont to be stubborn about. He raised his chin and held his ground.

“What could you possibly see in him?” Alphinaud responded in lieu of answer. “He is undoubtedly one of the most unpleasant people I have ever met.” He put one hand on his hip and returned her now scathing glare in equal measure. “And that is without taking into account how poorly he treats you!”

“Would you rather he handled me as though I’m made of glass like everyone else?” Alisaie hissed. “Sometimes it feels like Ugan’s the only one who-” She stopped short, clenching her teeth as Alphinaud just coolly raised one of his eyebrows. Alisaie decided she could not bear his gaze any longer, and turned on her heel. “What does it matter, anyway?”

“It matters,” Alphinaud enunciated clearly, calmly. Too calmly. Gods, he was actually furious. Truly furious. “Because you could be taken advantage of.” Alisaie stiffened.

“...Do you really think he would do that?” She asked quietly.

“I cannot rightly say.” Alphinaud told her stiffly. “But he has ever projected an air of malice and scorn. Affected or not, he is not one-”

Alisaie spun around once more - the frequency of the action beginning to make her head swim - and grabbed Alphinaud by the ruffles of his shirt, jerking him forward. He let out a strangled gasp of surprise, but otherwise met her furious gaze evenly. 

“You of all people should know what good Ugan has done for Eorzea.” She growled. “Or have you forgotten the Coils? He was there too, Alphinaud. Even putting Bahamut aside, he has been with the Warrior of Light, footstep for footstep, since the slaying of Ifrit. You told me this.”

Alphinaud’s anger held strong, but he at least had the presence of mind to look slightly ashamed. He grabbed Alisaie’s hand, and she let him pull her off of his shirt.

“...I cannot be certain he did not perform those feats under duress.” He spoke carefully.

“Who has put Ugan under duress?” Alisaie demanded, incredulous. “Hydaelyn herself?”

“Of course not.” Alphinaud brushed the hair out of his eyes with a sigh, and then took a deep breath. “His words and even his actions, outside of the slaying of primals, lead me to believe that he is possessed of an egocentric, malevolent temperament. It makes it difficult to believe in his otherwise apparent altruism.”

“He’s rude,” Alisaie pointed out. “Not evil.” Although, when she thought about it, it was quite possible that the two things were synonymous to Alphinaud. She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself, and then sighed. “It is not fair of you to appear over my shoulder and berate me for having feelings, Alphinaud.”

Alphinaud furrowed his brow, and then actually wilted at that. Alisaie continued.

“Especially feelings I may or may not have for a man twice my age that I have no intention of pursuing.” Alphinaud had shrunk to the point that Alisaie was now practically looming over him, and he took a step back, clearing both the air and his throat.

“I will concede I was… overzealous.” He said, ever the diplomat. “Allow me to make it up to you; if the Bismarck is to your liking, I shall treat you again at a later date. If not, then to the establishment of your choosing.”

Alisaie gave him a long, hard look, arms folded. Truth be told, she was still plenty cross with him - regardless of how good-intentioned he may have been. Wherever she went, there were rarely people who had good things to say about Ugan, the Black Conjurer. She knew, deep down, he was not the horrible person the public and Alphinaud seemed to think he was. It irked her that Alphinaud refused to see it.

She allowed herself a small smile. Well, let him have his little prejudices. She would just have to get even.

“Very well.” She agreed, and briskly walked past him, in the direction she believed the Bismarck to be. She heard Alphinaud follow behind her, and they stepped onto one of the many white rock bridges dotting the coastal city. The sea below them brought with it a light, comfortable breeze and the wet smell of salt. “I seem to remember watching Kiora spar with Berry yesterday.” She said, offhand. Alphinaud hummed noncommittally, both aware of her sudden change of subject but oh so unaware of the purpose behind it. “She was wearing a rather small top, was she not?”

The click of Alphinaud’s boots stopped abruptly behind her. Smirking, she went on.

“Oh, you were there, weren’t you?” Alisaie said, mock surprised, and turned to give him an evil look. “Watching, or maybe... leering?”

Alphinaud’s ears had turned entirely red as he stared at her, wide-eyed. He looked as though he would rather try for the sea below than endure anything else she had to say. Well, too bad - she had more. “And when Delphyne had been working on that garden outside the Rising Stones. You were rather effusive in your praise. Laying it on a little thick?” She took a few steps towards him. “And if I recall, Salem-”

“Your point is made!” Alphinaud yelped - squeaked, almost - and held up his hands in pleading and surrender. “If I ever bring this matter up again, may the Gods strike down me where I stand.” Alisaie hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

“Tell you what - let’s leave the Gods out of this.” She said. “Bring it up again, and I’ll just tell Krile everything I’ve just said.”

What little color there was left drained from Alphinaud’s face.

“You wouldn’t.” He managed.

“Try me.”

Alphinaud swallowed, and nodded.

“Excellent!” Alisaie exclaimed, and grabbed her suddenly weak-kneed brother by the arm. “Now I don’t know about you, but sitting outside for nearly an hour has left me famished.” Alphinaud smiled weakly.

“I may be able to drum up an appetite on the way there…” He muttered, and finally, Alisaie laughed, and Alphinaud relaxed. Free from the suffocating constraints of fraught conversations and difficult emotions, the twins made their way to the Bismarck and, hopefully, something cold to drink.


	17. To the Heavens and Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a quiet moment becomes a louder one.

To say that the road to Zenith was cold was like saying the Void was dark. Technically true, but wholly incapable of describing the depth of the matter. Even predisposed as he was to ignore the failings of the mortal body he had been forced into, Ugan found it difficult to keep his teeth from chattering. He found himself at once thankful for the warm coat he wore and cursing the fine - but thin - Ul’dahn silks beneath it. When finally they had opted to make camp for the night, Ugan sat far from the burgeoning fire Alphinaud had so proudly gathered wood for, hoping to prove his own endurance if to no one else, at least himself.

Berry and Honey had quickly huddled close to the fire - Berry for warmth, and Honey for light to read by. As was typical of the Warrior of Light, he was asleep in moments, leaning heavily against his partner as she used him as a prop for her book. Alphinaud carried on a quiet conversation with Estinien, while Honey occasionally provided her ever-mild input. Accompanying them was the newly rediscovered Kiora, who had been scattered after the Ul’dahn incident like many of the Personnel, when their company house was seized by the Brass Blades. Evidently, she had taken herself to the Dravanian Hinterlands to continue her training, and seemed much improved for it - though she now wore her hair differently. For once, Kiora was still, staring into the fire, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

Ugan’s Echo prickled as he felt a presence looming behind him.

“Lady Iceheart.” He murmured by way of greeting, not taking his eyes off the small campsite.

“Ever vigilant.” Ysayle noted. Ugan tilted his head, but said nothing further. She took a seat beside him regardless. “What is your stake in this?” She asked. Straight to the point, then.

“I just keep Berry alive.” Ugan replied.

“For the sake of it?” Ysayle held out her palm towards the camp, a questioning gesture.

“For the sake of the star.” Ugan told her, watching as the firelight fell over his sleeping charge. Ever vigilant… For no less could suffice. The price of negligence had been made clear in Ul’dah and, he was sure, would be made clear again.

“You would lead me to believe the fate of the world rests upon his shoulders?” Ugan heard a mote of sarcasm in Ysayle’s voice, but whether it was teasing or disbelieving, he could not tell.

“He will reach into the heavens and beyond. Fate has decided his course - but his strength will see him through it.”

Ysayle hummed in response.

“To the heavens and beyond…” She murmured. “A task all the more difficult for a Lalafell.”

So unexpected was the remark that Ugan immediately barked a laugh, which drew a level stare from Honey. He covered his mouth and looked away, but could not hide his smirk. 

“Had he been born an Elezen he could have saved himself a distance of three fulms.” Ysayle continued, and Ugan, still unprepared, shook with ill-contained mirth. Lady Iceheart kept her face grave, but she glanced at him sideways, and allowed herself a small smile. “You laugh? Such could be the difference between victory and defeat!”

Ugan wiped one of his eyes, and shook his head.

“You speak the truth, Lady Iceheart.” He conceded, matching her mock-serious tone. “I shall have him invest in stilts at once.” With the shared image of Blackberry Muffin, propped upon two thin sticks, replete with full plate armor and wielding his enormous axe against a primal, Ugan and Ysayle quickly devolved into unseemly giggling. Even a surprised look from Kiora could not shake the mirth from them.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh.” She called over to the pair, though the remark was directed at Ugan. 

“You’ve never said anything funny.” Ugan replied, voice still heavy with laughter. Kiora pouted, but quickly shrugged.

“Fair.” She conceded. “What’s so funny, then?”

Ugan and Ysayle exchanged a look. 

“We were just saying that, should Blackberry’s legend reach much loftier heights…” Ysayle began evenly.

“...He may need assistance reaching it!” Ugan finished for her, and they both descended into a quiet fit once more. Kiora only smirked, but all three of them were surprised when a clear, high laugh rang out from the camp, but was swiftly cut short. Ugan, Ysayle, and Kiora all turned to stare at Honey, who had quickly covered her mouth with a look of wide-eyed surprise. Even Alphinaud and Estinien regarded her strangely.

Blackberry shifted in his sleep with a snore.

“...’M not too short to ride the coaster, Godbert, honest…” He murmured into the sudden silence of the camp, and leaned sloppily into Honey.

The fire crackling was the only sound for a bare moment, and then the four of them immediately erupted into uproarious laughter, which caused Alphinaud to blanch. Eventually he settled into bemused amusement watching the lot of them, and though it may have been a trick of the light, Estinien may even have cracked a small smile. Their laughter echoed high into the boundless sky above, and for a moment, they were heedless of danger, the future, and duty. Blackberry slept peacefully through the lot of it, undoubtedly conserving his strength for the trials to come.


	18. REJOICE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Personnel get soaked.

“REJOICE!”

Well, this had turned into a fine mess. Nevermind that the Red Kojin had unwittingly summoned a Primal, or that the Primal had turned out to be both amenable and entirely bloodthirsty - reminding Ugan strongly of a certain Lalafel he knew - or that the power of this Primal was such that the Personnel were hard pressed to fight it off despite their combined experience slaying such entities. While Susano had proven a worthy foe, Ugan had thought him to be of a manageable strength. That was, until, he had sunk into the stone arena they did battle upon and reappeared as a massive water construct. They had soon been set upon by his massive blade.

The first strike had nearly decimated the arena and drenched the daring Free Company in a title wave of rushing water. Ugan had expended all of his available power simply blunting the force of the attack. Honey seemed half-drowned, though she was still on her feet, her fire magicks squelched by the seawater. Salem’s antics appeared to have availed him little, as he was unconscious. The Brute had pulled him out of the water and was shouting for Delphyne, who was already tending to a similarly indisposed Kiora. Above them, Susano’s enormous blade began to descend once more.

Ugan’s mind raced for a solution, but his mighty aetheric reserves had been tapped. With a few moments more, he may be able to get the personnel back on their feet, but they did not have-

“Rejoice yourself, you soggy bastard!” Blackberry bellowed, leaping in front of Ugan. With a mighty spinning, overhanded swing he crushed his axe into the earth, and Ugan assumed he had gone mad. That was until aetherically charged earth - channeled through the blade of the axe - erupted forth into the sky. A veritable mountain arose to catch the falling blade, and it was stopped, jammed into stone with the sound of rending rock.

Blackberry turned around and gave Ugan a wide, wild grin.

“Is this living or what?” He yelled, and immediately readied his axe as Susano reformed at his regular size.

“Resilient souls, I salute you!” The Primal shouted as he engaged Blackberry. Ugan growled - frustrated that Berry had so blithely outperformed him - and immediately sent a burst of aether that pulled Salem from Brute’s grasp and brought him within arm’s reach of Ugan. Then, he conjured a bubble of restorative magicks, and shouted at everyone to pile in. Delhpyne yelled something about Kiora, but with the blood and water pounding in Ugan’s skull, he did not hear it. She would tend to the fallen monk - he needed to get everyone else back in fighting spirit, otherwise this sentient suit of armor would send them to a watery grave.

He grit his teeth, reaching for some final vestige - and he found it, suddenly flowing into him, cold like ice, but plentiful.

“Get to it!” Honey shouted insistently, her breath frosting and ice forming spiderwebs in the ground beneath her feet. Her staff was raised, but one hand was outstretched towards Ugan as she fed him a portion of the boundless energy encased within her umbral ice. Needing no further prompting, Ugan took the borrowed power, raised his cane into the air, and cooling light exploded forth, enveloping everyone around him in its restorative energies.

Salem coughed, but kipped up and readied his chakrams.

“Thanks, babe!” He shouted, dodging a gout of water and whirling away. Several bullets flew over Ugan’s shoulder as Brute, heartened by Salem’s return to the waking, continued his assault. Even Kiora, looking the worse for wear but at the very least standing once more, flew into the openings created by Blackberry. Delphyne trotted up beside him, reinforcing his protective ward with a flourish of her staff, and shooing him away.

“I’ll cover them - focus on getting your strength back!” She ordered, her voice carrying over the din of battle. Ugan bristled at the suggestion that he needed her help, but quickly found that not only was it true, but that if he continued on as he was, he would swiftly be useless regardless. He retreated to take position beside Honey, got on one knee, and focused on communing with the land to restore his strength.

“Such… ferocity!” Susano declared, and Ugan looked up to see Berry backing the Primal into a corner, eyes aglow with his internal aether as he used his axe as a blunt instrument to try and shatter Susano’s blade. He was not even trying to avoid the sword - he was just specifically attacking the sword, and such was the intensity of the assault that Susano had no choice but to parry. 

Then, a hail of bullets from Brute’s overcharged cannon and a burst of aether from Salem’s flourish left Susano unsteady. Kiora capitalized, sweeping his feet out from under him with a quick turn of her leg. Prone, Susano was unable to raise his blade in time to defend himself from Blackberry’s axe, and it crashed into him with the ear splitting sound of shearing metal.

“You-” Susano began, but whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut off as, with a small popping noise, a dark inferno erupted from within him, causing his shattered shell to explode and the shrapnel of it to fly into the surrounding water.

Ugan stood, and everyone looked over at Honey, who was breathing heavily. With a flourish of her staff, her aspect was changed from red to blue, and she hooked her weapon onto her back.

“What?” She asked of everyone’s blank stares. Scowling, she folded her arms. “I was mid-cast! I wasn’t going to hold onto a Flare just because he had something to say!”

A beat, and then the Personnel erupted into tired laughter. Ugan cracked a smile, and let the tension out of his body. Another notch on Berry’s axe.

Unfortunately for all of them, Susano still had some words as formless motes of light, but they were benign and even complimentary. Ragged as they all were - with the exception of Berry, who was in incredibly high spirits - they could do no more than grimace at the lethal cheeriness of it all. For his part, Ugan stared down at the palm of his hand, flexing his gloved fingers.

It was not enough. His power was not enough.

Honey elbowed him in the knee, and when he looked down at her, she jerked her head towards the departing group. They had begun to leave while he was distracted. Wordlessly, he followed Honey out of the arena, to see what awaited them. No, his power was not enough… but with the rest of the Personnel, he would have plenty of time to remedy that.


	19. The Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Krile desperately tries to staunch the bleeding.

Krile was too practiced and efficient to allow tears to cloud her judgement or her work. Remaining in high spirits was key in providing her patients - or those around her patients - with the hope to believe her treatments would work. Outwardly, she always projected strength while attending others with her healing magicks. No matter how hopeless the cause or severe the condition. Even so…

She knew when to admit to herself that things did not look good.

It was as if the Empire had known exactly when to attack. With the Warrior of Light and others in his Free Company afield, their elite vanguard of Primal slayers was notably absent at the commencement of this… massacre. As was Krile herself. She had been able to rendezvous with Blackberry, who was blessedly in the company of the twins and Pipin, and they had made for the rach with as much haste as they could muster. With communications jammed, Berry had been unable to get in contact with his compatriots. They had been forced to stage a desperate rescue alone.

They had found Lyse with an unconscious Y’shtola and Master Kemp. She had not had the opportunity to inspect the leader of the Resistance, but as for Y’shtola… the wound was bad. Very bad. While she believed she could mend the worst of it herself, without the proper facilities… And it remained to be seen whether or not Y’shtola would even last that long. To her senses, the Scion’s heartbeat was fast and fleeting. Just a little longer…

Dimly, she heard words being exchanged, and looked up to find Berry facing down a man in monstrous armor. She was given to believe this was the Viceroy, Zenos. The words he spoke dripped with contempt, and shortly, he was engaged with Berry in battle. She returned her focus to Y’shtola, trusting the Warrior of Light to deal with the military threat.

It was not to be, however. Against whatever infernal might Zenos possessed, not even Blackberry could stand. Maybe if the other Personnel had been present… but they were nowhere to be seen, and the Warrior of Light was struck down. Krile closed her eyes and grit her teeth - Berry was more stubborn than that, surely it would take more than that…!

She focused on Y’shtola.

In the distance, Blackberry dragged himself to his feet. For a blessing, it also appeared the Garleans were retreating. By some miracle, they all yet lived - though how much longer Y’shtola had left remained to be seen. With the threat of death no longer hanging over her, Krile lost herself in her work.

And it… It was not going to be enough. Master Kemp was already in the care of Alphinaud, and with Alisaie knocked unconscious in the battle for Zenos, there was no one else who…

Dimly, she was aware of a shadow standing over her. She looked up, strained, and let out a gasp of disbelief and anger.

“You…!” She managed. Ugan Thais stared down at her, face shrouded in shadow by the light cast by her magicks. As such, his expression was inscrutable. She did not know whether to laugh or scream, that of all things Hydaelyn or the Gods could have sent her to save Y’shtola, that it had to be Honey Muffin’s pet voidsent.

Ugan crouched down, and, wordlessly placed his large, gloved hand over both of hers.

The blast of restorative magicks that resulted kicked dust off the ground, and, faintly, Krile believed she heard… chimes? And Y’shtola… Her pulse was stable, and her breathing, even. She would need to be monitored and would scar but… she would live.

“You’ve done all you can, Alphinaud.” Ugan said, without turning to look at the young Elezen. His eyes were closed, but through the echo, Krile could feel… anger. Disappointment. Contempt. Krile glanced at Alphinaud, whose lips were pressed into a thin, frustrated line as he knelt over Conrad. “There are more wounded.”

He stood and, stepping over Y’shtola in a single, long stride, began to stalk away. He spared a glance over at where Blackberry was being tended to by alliance forces, but otherwise did not break stride. Another wave of anger and loathing rolled off the man. Krile felt something rising in her throat as she watched him.

“Why?” She yelled after him, unable to keep it to herself. “Why do you help us if you hate us so much?”

Ugan paused, turning his head towards her. In the night, the glow of his eye stared out at her, brilliant and haunting. 

“The Echo fails you, Baldesion.” Ugan called back. “It's not you I hate.”

He drew his cane, and approached the fallen form of a resistance soldier to begin his work. It was not long before he was joined by Delphyne, and together the two of them coordinated the reconstitution of the wounded - and the comforting of those who were too far gone to save.

Krile watched this, exhausted, until she heard the Warrior of Light approach. He was staring, concerned, at Y’shtola as he ran towards them, and Krile just sighed.

“She will live.” She told him, before he could ask the question. Lyse and Alphinaud were tending to Conrad, though there was a distinct, somber air as the two of them did so. Berry looked relieved, and cast his gaze anxiously towards the horizon - where Zenos had retreated too. “...Thanks in no small part to Ugan.”

Berry turned back to smile at her, though it was wan.

“He’s a good guy, huh?” He asked, genuine as sunshine.

Krile swallowed.

“I will admit he is useful.” She replied diplomatically, which Berry took, of course, as agreement. With an additional assurance that Y’shtola would be alright, she bid him to assist Delphyne and Ugan with the wounded, and to send some alliance soldiers her way so they could transport the two unconscious people in their care. Berry trotted off, pensive, and Krile rubbed her forehead.

It would be a long night. She would think about what Ugan had said later.


	20. Coordination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a scouting mission is undertaken.

“So, you’re learning how to dance?” Salem asked, tail swishing back and forth - a certain sign of his playfulness, even if he kept his face serious. Ugan did not spare him a second look as they trudged through the Fringes, on a scouting mission for the Alliance. So far, they had only come upon angry tree-men and a half-destroyed village. Over the ridge in the distance, however, the imperial tower that was Castrum Velodyna could still be seen. With Salem’s propensity for agility and stealth, and Ugan’s powerful supportive magic, they had been chosen as the best pair out of those available to investigate rumors of Imperial forces smuggling their way through a cave system in the woodlands north of Castrum Oriens.

“No.” Ugan clarified, keeping his voice low. He peered around a large tree to make sure the coast was clear, and waved Salem forward. Salem’s ears flicked back and forth. Undoubtedly he would be aware of danger before Ugan ever was, but Ugan would be damned before he let the smug man take point.

“So, all the jump-flipping and flip-jumping and dashing about is for fun, then?” As usual, Salem was nothing if not persistent. Ugan made a low sound of disgust.

“I’m only going to explain this because you won’t shut up if I don’t.” Ugan growled, and then took a deep breath. “It’s called Red Magic, and it is a blend of White and Black Magic that relies on the use of one’s own aether rather than the aether of their surroundings. As this is both dangerous to the wielder and inferior when it comes to raw power provided, the practice makes up for this by maximizing their available aether flow through movement. What’s more, the dualistic approach in aether conversion allows for the wielder to cast spells of opposing elemental aspect in order to use the normally catastrophic feedback to instead quicken the application of the more devastating magicks in their repertoire. Of course, the feedback is not entirely cancelled and builds up incrementally - which is why the latent energy is distilled from the focus into the blade and, eventually, unleashed. While the unleashing of these energies could be as simple as diffusing them harmlessly into the surrounding area, the creators of the technique were efficient and pragmatic - a hallmark of the discipline. It is no coincidence the excess energy is channeled into the blade, as it can then be discharged at close range to devastating effect. Practitioners of the art are, therefore, consummate skirmishers and duelists, an appellation further magnified by their ability to use restorative magicks on the fly to patch battlefield wounds and get their companions back in the fight. However, as the restorative magicks are unaspected, they do not fuel the feedback loop that is otherwise inherent to the fighting style, and so using your aether in such a fashion is not recommended unless absolutely necessary.”

They had continued through the forest as Ugan pontificated, though once he had finished, he stopped and glared at Salem flatly. Salem blinked owlishly, eyebrows raised.

“Wow.” He said. “So, what’s with that hat?”

Ugan blinked, and reached up to touch the feather cap that he wore.

“What do you mean?”

“Does it… I dunno. Channel, aspected… stuff. Aetherically convert feedback catastrophes?” Salem waved his hand idly as he spoke, and then shrugged his shoulders. “Does it do anything?”

“It’s a hat.” Ugan told him.

“So you’re just wearing a bright red hat with a feather in it just... because.” Salem clarified.

There was a long moment of silence, though Ugan wore an expression like he would enjoy nothing more than to flay Salem alive where he stood. Salem just smiled back at him innocently, hands behind his back.

Ugan stalked away. Salem barked a laugh, half humor, half disbelief.

“Thal’s balls, you are just wearing it!” He called after him, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he easily caught up with his companion. “And look, you’ve glamoured your coat red to match it. I had no idea you were into color coordination-” Salem gasped, a sound of pure delight, and he giggled again. “You usually wear white - are you matching your outfit to your discipline?”

Ugan whirled and swung his weapon - still in cane form - at Salem, who leapt back with a full throated laugh. The look Ugan gave Salem would strip the flesh from Titan. 

“You are!” Salem crowed. “Gods, wait until I tell Brute! No, wait until I tell Y’shtola!”

“Quiet!” Ugan hissed. “We have a job to do - focus on that.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one.” Salem said, though he did follow Ugan as the latter continued to stomp angrily through the woods. “Imagine - the Black Conjurer, Ugan Thais, bound Voidsent and… fashionista!” 

“I would rather submit myself to an eternity bathed in light aether than hear you speak another word.” Ugan deadpanned, and then held up one hand. “Fortunately, we’re here. Look.” Salem followed where Ugan pointed, and it seemed like they had found the cave system. However, there was no sign of Imperial activity - at least, not on the outside. Salem filed away Ugan’s predisposition for color coordination for later, and gave his full attention to the task at hand.

“Are we sure it goes through to the other side?” He asked. Ugan shrugged.

“That’s what we’re here to check.” Ugan flick the head of his cane as he spoke, and it rapidly spun off and began floating over one of his shoulders. Then, he grabbed the top of the cane, and pulled. Swiftly, a thin blade unsheathed from within what Salem had always believed was a conjurer’s implement. What remained of the cane - or Salem supposed, what was now a sheath - Ugan hung from his belt. The focus floated from above his shoulder and aligned itself with the hilt of Ugan’s blade, which he held backwards, as though it were still a staff.

Salem just flicked his chakrams into his hand with a flick of his wrists.

“Quick and quiet.” Salem murmured. Ugan nodded and, keeping low, they both swiftly approached the cave entrance. As far as caves went, it was both out of place and fairly nondescript. Something had smoothed away the sandstone on the outside, resulting in a whole in the side of the ridge that was without any jagged outcroppings. They entered silently, and swiftly found themselves enveloped in darkness. Ugan felt Salem place a hand on his shoulder, and they moved as one through the tunnel. Salem was a Seeker, and so ill-suited for the deep places of the earth. Fortunately, Ugan could see in pitch blackness as though it were daylight. A perk of being wildly over-attuned to darkness.

Their search was short. Imperial blockades were discovered only a short walk in, made of tempered iron. Portable, but heavy, and with the spikes facing outwards to prevent mounted incursion. Dimly, operating on little light, the movements of imperial troops putting weapons into position and moving crates could be made out. No magitek, however. Per the orders they had received, they were not to engage if any armor was at the location.

Fortunately, there was none, and Ugan had need to vent his frustrations.

He tapped Salem’s hand twice, and felt the pressure of it leave his shoulder. He doubted he would see Salem again until he attacked, but the signal let him know to get into position until the show started - and Ugan was more than willing to be the opening act.

Ugan flicked his focus so it began spinning, the intertwined umbral and astral aligned crystals humming with power as the cyclical movement resonated with the geometry inherent in its design. Ugan stepped out of the shadows, placed a hand over the focus, and channeled aether into it like he was trying to destroy it.

Predictably, the focus accepted the offering, and Ugan redirected the ensuing torrential blast of wind into the makeshift imperial camp, obliterating several crates and throwing an unwitting soldier into the air. His unfortunate victim slammed into the ceiling of the cave with a sickening crack. Hitting the ground might have hurt more, if the guard had not already been dead when it happened. A flurry of well-trained movements and shouts of alarm let him know his presence had been discovered, and Ugan grinned mirthlessly.

As it turned out, the forward camp was more sparsely populated than anticipated. A few well-placed spells sent those who wanted to muster a defense into retreat, which made Ugan frown. The Garleans must not have much need for the position if they were not willing to defend it. Still, his orders had been to eliminate any opposition, so he gave chase deeper into the tunnel.

It was several steps past the crates he had destroyed when he noticed something was wrong. Shards of metal littered the floor… but naught else. As if they had been… empty.

“It’s a trap!” Ugan shouted, spinning on his heel just in time for a previously hidden colossus to burst out of the adjacent wall. The enormous automaton swung its giant blade, practically filling the cavern with it. Ugan raised his own blade to parry, and was rewarded for the futile action by being swiftly flung across the room. He connected painfully with stone, but managed to land on his feet. The iron giant advanced, and Ugan fired off several rapid spells, which barely slowed it.

“Take your time, Salem!” Ugan roared, blasting the colossus with lightning. Ever punctual, Salem wheeled out of the darkness, striking their adversary with his chakrams, which began to bounce off the walls and the giant in a madcap fashion. Ugan could barely keep track of the flying projectiles, but not only did Salem manage to avoid being cut by his own flying discs, he occasionally caught and redirected them as he spun and flipped around the giant’s feet. Unfortunately, the damage was mostly superficial, but it did a fine job of distracting the stupid thing. Ugan aimed a chunk of aspected earth at one of its exposed joints as Salem’s opening assault came to a close, and they ended up facing the creature side by side.

“Sort of clumsy for a dance partner, isn’t he?” Salem remarked, focused and not at all out of breath.

“You’ll have to settle for me, then.” Ugan replied, and put hand to focus once more.

“Thought you’d never ask, darling.” Salem cooed, artfully dodging underneath Ugan’s blast of air and riding the aetheric tailwind up towards the giant. The colossus attempted to swat Salem out of the air, but there was no way the lumbering sword would ever touch him. He spun away from the clumsy thing, tossing both chakrams into the giant’s chest at point blank, and then kicking off of its helmet. Ugan targeted the point the chakrams had just cut, stilling glowing with a pink “x”, and let out a blast flame. This blew a hole in the colossus’ chest, and it staggered backwards.

Salem landed with a flourish, and caught his chakrams. Ugan’s blade hummed with unspent power.

“Cover me!” He yelled, and projected himself forward, borrowing from the aether stored in his blade to speed him towards his target. Salem wordlessly spun in place, and the room was suddenly awash in scarlet aether petals. They swirled around Ugan, lending him strength, as he thrust his blade into the opening. With a shout, he unleashed the energy stored within.

The ensuing explosion shook the cavern. Ugan barely managed to backflip off the colossus in time, and the force of the blast propelled him towards the ceiling. He managed to kick off the stone of the ceiling, and landed gracefully on his feet, next to Salem, and gazed at the felled automaton placidly. 

“Unsatisfactory.” He bit out.

“It was kind of boring.” Salem agreed.

Then, the ground began to shake. The explosion must have destabilized the cavern. Ugan and Salem exchanged glances and, without a word, bolted for the exit. Ugan conjured an orb of light so Salem could see, and they managed to make it out into the open just as the cavern collapsed behind them. Ugan skidded to a halt as a dust cloud kicked up behind them, though Salem slowed to a jog for a few paces, laughing.

“Hoo, okay, maybe too much excitement for a scouting mission.” Salem remarked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ugan grunted, sheathed his blade, and reattached the focus to the top of it.

“Let’s just go report.” Ugan said, walking past Salem.

“Yeah, yeah.” Salem waved his hand, and followed Ugan at a leisurely place. Soon, a conspiratorial air came over him, and he grinned mischievously.

“So are your smalls red too, or…?”

Ugan shot him a venomous glare, and Salem just laughed and laughed.


	21. Deep Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a fish is caught and cooked.

“Hey, Ugan, you got a minute?”

Ugan closed his eyes, and forced the growing throb of irritation forming in his chest back down. He kept his finger on the line of his fishing pole, however. It connected him to the bait, which connected him to the fish, which connected him to the lake. Fishing was… soothing. For reasons Ugan could not comprehend, he had an affinity for it, and so, in the quiet hours of the night when mortals slept and he found himself faced with the prospect of staring at another wall for hours, he opted to do this instead.

Presently, he was seated beside Lake Silvertear. The glow of the Crystal Tower cast everything into soft relief, brighter than the moon, but not intrusive. If Ugan could have ever described himself as “at peace”, he would do so when he was fishing.

Even so, he approached the practice with his own brand of detached menace. It was his way.

Blackberry Muffin, the Warrior of Light, had interrupted this practice. For what reason the sleep-prone lalafell was awake at this godly hour, Ugan did not know, but he suspected he would shortly. 

As a response to his question, Ugan just grunted, the tone of which did nothing to indicate whether or not he had any minutes to give. If Blackberry took this as assent, he did not voice it, and instead simply sat upon the crystal-strewn shore beside him. This mildly surprised Ugan. Catching Blackberry in a quiet moment was rare, as he was never prone to being quiet. Ugan stole a glance at his boisterous charge, and found him staring out over the lake, towards where the body of Midgardsormr lay entwined with the ruined Garlean hulk.

“What’s the nature of darkness?” Berry asked suddenly, unprompted. Ugan’s glance turned into a long stare, mostly born of surprise. What sort of questions was this, then? From the Warrior of Light, of all people.

“Does it matter?” Ugan responded, and began reeling in his line. No luck. “What darkness stands before you, you destroy.”

“Right.” Blackberry said, sounding unsure. “But is that… a good thing? Is darkness always bad? Are people who use it always bad?”

“Morality is relative.” Ugan cast his line back into the water, after ensuring his bait was still attached. No need to waste it. “Your cause has been righteous thus far, so it seems.”

“So it seems?” Blackberry parroted back. “You don’t think it is?”

“I don’t care if it is.” Ugan clarified, settling into his stool. “Your cause is my cause. I simply caution against the idea of accepting your own righteousness at face value. Such was the downfall of Thordan.”

Blackberry pulled his knees up into his chest, frowning. The silence stretched on, so long that Ugan opted for a lure to try out instead. It seemed as though all the fish were sleeping. Late as it was, they could hardly be blamed.

“I met a guy named Fray.” Berry said, eventually. “He told me some things. He says there's a darkness inside of me. Showed me how to use it.”

Ugan raised an eyebrow at that. Darkness within the Warrior of Light…? So suffused with Hydaelyn’s blessing has Berry always been that it had never occurred to Ugan that he could be anything but a staunch paragon of idyllic virtue.

“Sounds useful.” Ugan replied instead of giving voice to his own thoughts.

“It doesn’t scare you?” Blackberry asked, sounding concerned. Ugan barked a laugh, slowly reeling in his line. 

“Not much frightens me.” Ugan felt a tug on the rod, but kept reeling in steadily. “Least of all you, Warrior.” Another tug… another… Ugan jerked the rod upwards rapidly, and felt the hook catch. Swiftly, silently, he began reeling in his haul. Blackberry stayed quiet during the struggle of Ugan’s sport, and shortly, Ugan landed himself a sizable Ilsabardian Bass. He slew the struggling creature with a swift blow to the head, and tossed it into his steadily growing bucket.

“What if I turned against you?” Berry asked, as Ugan recast his line.

“You mean, if you went mad and tried to slay me?”  
“No,” Berry sighed, and leaned backwards on his hands. “What if I turned against the Scions. Sided with the Ascians. Wielded the power of darkness to cause chaos.”

“Then I would stand with you.” Ugan replied simply. Blackberry scoffed, then gave him a strange look.

“...Really?”

“I’ve no loyalty towards the Scions or their cause.” Ugan told him. “I have been charged with protecting you. There were no other conditions.” At least, no other conditions plainly stated. As apparent from the near constant pressure of Hydaelyn’s displeasure, the Echo had come with drawbacks that included keeping his more aggressive nature in check in favor of letting the fallible mortals make their own mistakes. Aggravating, but ultimately beneath him.

“...It really must be simple for you.” Blackberry hummed, and flopped onto his back. Ugan nodded, and reeled in his line the rest of the distance as it approached him. Once more, he cast it into the lake. “...I fear the darkness inside me.”

“Foolish.” Ugan grunted immediately, keeping his eye on his pole.

“Is it?” Berry asked, staring at the stars.

“Do you fear the light within you as well?” Ugan asked, instead of answering. “Do you behold it and wonder what terrible power you wield, what awesome strength flows through you? No. Of course not. You fear the darkness only because it is unfamiliar. In truth, besides being opposite in aspect, the two are the same.”

“They don’t feel the same.” Blackberry countered. Ugan rolled his eyes.

“A mortal notion.” No luck again. With a sigh, Ugan stowed his rod. “Build a fire. I will prepare a meal.” Even melancholy as he was, the promise of food spurred Berry into action, and he went about doing as Ugan requested. Ugan busied himself cleaning his most recently caught bass, setting the offal aside for chum. Like fishing, cooking was formulaic and meditative for him. The two of them were together, but alone with their thoughts as the midnight meal was prepared.

A quarter bell later, and Berry was happily tearing into a fire-roasted bass. Ugan had little besides salt and pepper on hand, but it was enough.

“So you don’t think I should be worried?” Berry asked, mouthful of fish.

“Look.” Ugan pointed at the Crystal tower, and then raised his hand. Then, he pointed at the shadow cast. “Do you see the shadow?” Berry nodded. “It is faint, and though the tower is bright, the light is weak at this distance. Look here.” He pointed at a twin, flickering shadow, cast by the nearby fire. Darker, but still ephemeral. “The light of the fire casts a darker shadow. The brighter the light…” Ugan conjured an orb of brilliant light directly behind Blackberry, the sudden burst throwing the Warrior into stark relief. Berry’s shadow cast long and pitch, away from him, and into the night. “...The deeper the shadow. Neither exists without the other. Bereft of either, they are simply nothing. A void.”

Ugan dispelled the Orb, which left spots on his vision. He closed his eyes until they went away.

“I get it.” Blackberry said, voice quiet and thoughtful. “The darkness is only so strong, because the light is as well.” Ugan grunted his assent, and opened his eyes. Berry was grinning gratefully at him. Ugh. 

“Why didn’t you just talk to Honey about this?” Ugan grumbled, and began stowing his equipment. 

“I tried.” Berry replied, rubbing his head. “She hit me with her staff and told me to come bother you.”

“Consider me bothered.” Ugan replied drily. Blackberry just laughed.

“Yeah, but thanks, big guy.”

Ugan said nothing, just conjured a bit of earth to put out the fire and picked up his pack. Berry walked with him back to Mor Dhona, the entire time talking about how good the fish was. For his part, Ugan participated in the conversation minimally, wondering who this Fray was, and why he had never met them.


	22. What Few Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein only one conversation is had.

Minfilia Warde never had words for Ugan. He was unsure if this was because of preference or circumstance. He rarely found himself included in Berry’s talks with the Scions, and was more than content to be filled in later regarding whatever he was to be tasked with - or not filled in at all, as the case may be. Ugan rarely spared a thought towards the Scions’ young but determined leader. In fact, had he not learned she also possessed the Echo, he may never have thought on her at all. As it stood, she was simply more of a footnote in his ongoing chronicle of information regarding Hydaelyn. He would need whatever knowledge he could gather if he ever faced the Mothercrsytal again.

Still, the few times he was in her presence, he found himself aware of short, hard looks whenever he spoke. She made it clear by her demeanor how she felt about whatever opinion he voiced. Ugan found it refreshing to be met with such unflinching, unvoiced condemnation. It was respectable. Few managed to meet his level gaze, and fewer still had the strength to hold it. Save for Honey and Minfillia, none actually returned it with any measure of defiance. There was strength in that delicate mortal body, of that Ugan was sure. He had yet to determine what kind when she was captured by the Garleans shortly after Titan’s defeat. While Berry moped and planned rescue, Ugan put her far from his mind.

He assisted in that rescue, but paid it little heed. She was plenty grateful towards Blackberry and the other Personnel for their part, though she still remained cold and distant with him. Had he an inclination towards taking offense at some things, he may have felt hurt. As it stood, however, he hardly cared. Once, after Thancred had recovered, he asked Ugan what he had done to get on her bad side. Ugan had nothing to tell him about it, but observed that she was probably wiser than most.

Thancred had taken that in stride. Ugan meant it sincerely, though he still sometimes heard the man trying to convince Minfilia of Ugan’s good nature. She was polite, but firm in her convictions, and always refused to elucidate Thancred as to the nature of her distaste. It was still something of a mystery to Ugan when she was taken by Nabriales, and it was still a mystery afterwards. Even having assisted in her salvation twice over, she stoically refused to trade words with him. Ugan was not interested in the game, and so made no effort to coax them out of her. When she vanished with the rest of the Scions, he took it as a sign of welcome respite from her silent judgement.

He was not aware that it would be the last time he would experience it - for a long time, at least. In fact, he did not see Minfillia again until long after the end of the Dragonsong War. After the liberation of Ala Mhigo and Doma. Xenos’ defeat. He and Thancred found themselves transported suddenly across the Rift - Thancred for the first time, Ugan for the second - and trapped upon the First. The Crystal Exarch was apologetic, Thancred was angry, and Ugan was unbothered. Another trial, another test. The Exarch, immediately aware of Ugan’s nature, still treated him better than Minfillia ever had. Left to their own devices, Ugan and Thancred found ways to whittle away the hours until the Warrior of Light’s arrival. Hours turned into days, days into moons, and then years. Along came Y’shtola and Honey, and Urianger and Salem, and still, no sign of the Warrior.

When Thancred learned of Minfilia reincarnated, he was as a man possessed. Ugan knew a thing or two about that. The city of Eulmore made his skin itch, for some indiscernible reason, and he did his best to assist Thancred in his rescue attempt. When they had finally reached the Oracle of Light’s room, and Thancred breathed her name upon seeing her, Ugan had stood to one side, unwilling to interrupt the reunion. Minfilia had asked Thancred who he was.

Ugan had never seen a grown man’s heart break before. There was little satisfaction in it.

The younger Minfilia held none of her predecessor’s aversion to conversation with Ugan. Though she was reserved and quiet, by comparison, she was a veritable chatterbox. Ugan doubted she was blind to the darkness inside him, but the people of this world seemed to have a dim view of the light, so he believed that it perhaps worked in his favor, as far as winning her over went. He watched Thancred struggle with his new charge, emotionally devastated and therefore distant. Scarred as Minfilia already was, it left Ugan feeling exasperated at the ineptitude of it all. Fortunately, Urianger was able to step in and assist. Y’shtola had disappeared to Rak’Tika at this point, and, duty to assist Thancred discharged, Ugan excused himself to travel the land and see what he could of this light blasted world.

Whenever he crossed paths with Thancred and Minfilia, her curiosity was reserved, but open. She was a different person. Thancred would learn in time.

Finally, the Warrior of Light came, and with it, the end to Ugan’s indolence. There was work to be done. As always, Ugan did as he was bid, provided insight where it was needed, and kept to himself otherwise. When they slew the monster at Holminster Switch, and the light had coalesced, Ugan had stepped towards it without thinking, his bid to protect Blackberry causing him to act automatically. Predictably, the light had been wholly consumed by the fathomless dark within him. It was not what the Exarch had been expecting, though the results could not be denied. Their path became clear, and Ugan was forced to the forefront of their plans. He wondered if this was how Berry felt all the time.

Each Warden they faced was like a drop of warm water upon the endless darkness that suffused his soul. Even so, he found himself feeling increasingly… erratic. Uncontrolled. During this time, Minfilia expressed concern, which Ugan brushed off with his usual blitheness. Still, he felt… Well. He felt. It would fade with the light, he assured himself. There was not enough light, even here, to cleanse the darkness from him, after all.

When Minfilia resolved to face herself, Ugan felt the urge to stop her. A strange feeling, as he also agreed with her. The old Minfilia would be more useful. More experienced. It was the logical conclusion. There was a part of him that balked at the idea of being victim to her cold stare, this time emanating from the eyes of someone he had once conversed with. He quashed the thoughts as foolish. They made for Amh Araeng.

With Thancred left behind, and the rest of the Personnel standing guard, Berry was to take Minfilia to meet her fate. To Ugan’s surprise, she insisted that he accompany her as well. She confessed to feeling safe around him, that she had known him longer than anyone else. She wanted him there, if it were to be the end. Ugan ignored the pit in his stomach, and agreed. What right did he have to deny the requests of a dying girl?

He had expected to watch as the Minfilia of new became the Minfilia of old - he had not anticipated the Echo to pull him into a vision of light. Yet there he was, alongside the Warrior of Light and both Minfilias, except he was not as he was upon the First, or even the Source. He was as he had been upon the Thirteenth, in the Void. A dark and terrible creature, a looming shadow, all elongated limbs and enshadowed wings. The light he had absorbed into himself formed jagged, yellow lines upon the darkness of his flesh, and here, Ugan could see the true wages of what he had wrought. The light would destroy him. Had this been Hydaelyn’s plan all along?

Even seeing him as he was, Berry and Minfilia did not shy from him. Berry was unafraid, as always, and Minfilia had always wondered what sort of shape the darkness in his soul might take. Even freed of his mortal prison, Ugan was still bound by the halo of light. Ugan bid them finish their business in this place, that he may be free of it.

Minfilia, the Voice of the Mother, had many kind words for both her protege and the Warrior. The younger became emotional, as was her wont, and to Ugan’s surprise, her resolve did not fail her. She wanted to be herself, her own person, her own savior. She would lay claim to the future. The Voice of the Mother acquiesced graciously, even proudly. She spoke her admiration for Berry, for his resolve, for their old friendship. That they had been able to see each other again, one last time.

Monstrous, Ugan remained silent.

The Voice turned to regard him, that same, silent stare. Cold, and unyielding. He felt himself shrink from it, unable to bear the weight of it, his soul suffused with light and cracked as it was. He saw something in her eyes that had always eluded him, before. Sorrow. Deep, cold, and pitiless. The sort of sorrow one feels for a friend beyond redemption. For a companion beyond the pale of righteousness, lost in the thralls of wickedness forevermore. Ugan knew, then, that Minfilia had always known what he was - perhaps better than even he had known himself.

“You stand before me in your glory, finally, and you cannot even meet my eye?” Minfilia spoke, words rife with contempt. “So proud of your power you’ve been to this point. Ever aloof, ever the egotist, and when you stand before me, after all this time, with nothing to hide behind, you cower?”

Ugan felt his indignation flare, his anger rise, but it was muted, stifled. Greater was a sudden sense of shame, of guilt. What… What had become of him? Try as he might, he could not gather the power to look at her. Even so, here, in the darkless expanse, she stepped towards him.

“I knew you. The moment you set foot into the Waking Sands, I knew you. As the Voice, I know you still. The bargain, your hunger, your hatred, all of it. It is known to me.” She stopped before him, and he fell to his knees, covering his face with his wings and clawed hands. “Well? Have you nothing to say to me, even now? The one who knows every facet of your existence? What words have you for me?”

Ugan could feel her anger from where he knelt, without needing to see here. His body trembled, and neither the protege or the Warrior came to his defense. Whether it was from understanding or confusion, he did not know. If she knew everything… What did she know, that he did not? There had been dreams since the light… visions, and…

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Ugan choked out, feeble and broken.

Minfilia laid her hand gently upon his wing, and pushed it aside. Slowly, she pried away his defenses, moving his hands and stepping into him. Eventually, she placed her hands on his monstrous face, and turned him to face her.

Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, the cold judgement replaced by a deep and abiding sadness.

“I know you are, my child. You always have been.” She spake, and it was with the voice of Hydaelyn. “You live. You suffer. I know you, Ugan Thais. And I forgive you.” She touched her forehead to his, and he closed his eyes, unable to shed tears as he was now, but incapable of resisting the urge to try. “Wheresoever you wander, you shall be in the light of the Crystal.”

“There is nothing left within me.” Ugan whispered, bearing the voice of the Voidsent he was - is. “When the light destroys the darkness, I will be no more.”

“There is more to you than what has been done to you, my child.” She told him. “Have faith in yourself. Have faith in your companions.”

She stepped away from him, and he sagged, losing what strength he had left.

“No hero can stand alone.” The Oracle said, as the vision began to fade. “Only together can you hope to change the fate of two worlds… and perhaps all of creation.”

Ugan was returned to his mortal body, and awoke from the vision after both Minfilia and Berry. Minfilia… No, she was different now. Her eyes, and hair… There was a deep silence over the sand-buried plaza as Ugan stood, shakily. The young girl, the new Oracle of Light, gazed at him evenly. Then, she stepped forward and embraced him. Awkwardly, feeling set upon, Ugan returned the hug, thoughts and emotions swirling through him dizzily. Berry walked over and patted Ugan on the knee, fond and sad.

“C’mon, you two.” He whispered. “We’ve got work to do.”

Later, Minfilia would Become Ryne, Thancred would make his peace, and they would carry on the fight. Minfilia Warde, and the only words she ever spoke to Ugan Thais, however, would remain unforgotten.


	23. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a burning question is answered.

“Long have I held my peace,” Gosetsu began somberly, pink in the face from the sake he was drinking. A smoothed stone served as a makeshift table, and around it sat the old samurai, Lord Hien, and the personnel. Yugiri was notably absent, as was her wont, though in the raucous merry-making that was the celebration the eve of the battle for Doma, it was easy to miss her absence. Already Salem was slouched onto the table, not from lack of stamina but from volume of drink, and beside him, the Brute was seemingly keeping upright through force of will. Even Hien seemed mostly content to follow the conversation rather than engage in it. Of those gathered, only Ugan, Honey, Berry, and Gosetsu remained talkative - Gosetstsu and Berry through stamina, and Honey and Ugan through abstinence.

Honey hated hangovers, and Ugan hated alcohol. This left both of them in foul moods despite the festivities, though any attempt to excuse themselves had been met by insistence that they stay from an increasingly inebriated Berry.

“Long have I held my peace!” Gosetsu repeated, slamming his faist upon the stone. He pointed emphatically at the Warrior of Light, who gazed back at him with a placid, piss-drunk grin. “But no longer. You. You will tell me… why the greatest Eorzean champion… the Khagan of the Steppe… Is named after a pastry.”

Blackberry laughed.

“What?” He responded, seemingly uncomprehending. Ugan glanced at Honey, who was watching proceedings with a shrewd eye. He was vaguely aware of the general circumstances that had led them to choose their particular appellations, but it was not a story he had heard in detail. To this day, he did not know their given names. Not that it mattered to him much.

“I have not misspoke!” Gosetsu declared, his gaze still fixed on Blackberry. “You will tell me your real name, or we shall cross blades!”

“Aw, c’mon Gosetsu, you know my name. I’m Blackberry!” As though to emphasize that point, Blackberry took another long draw from the bottle he was holding.

“Your parents did not name you Blackberry!” Gosetsu insisted. The Warrior of Light stared at the old samuri for a long moment, before realization hit him like a rock tumbling down the side of a mountain.

“Oooooh! Oh, yeah. I mean, no, probably not. I mean, you’ve heard Lalafel names, right? Bababu and Bobobo…” Berry waved his hand as he babbled. “No, I’ve got astigmatism.”

“Amnesia.” Honey corrected blithely. Berry snapped his fingers and nodded.

“Yeah, that.” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t remember my real name. People called me ‘Warrior’ for a while. That was when I was taking odd jobs at Camp Drybone, you know, trying to make ends meet. I spent a lot of money on jam at this old miqo’te lady’s stall, and she started calling me Blackberry since I liked it so much, and it sort of stuck.”

Gosetsu had the poleaxed look of a man who’s world had just been upended.

“Eorzea’s mightiest warrior is named after jam?” He muttered, voice heavy with disbelief. Still, he shook himself and steeled his look. “But your surname-”

“Is mine.” Honey cut in. “He took it when we were Bonded.” She held up her hand to display the simple silver ring that served as a sign of the ceremony.

“Surely you don’t come from a long line of Muffins.” Gosetsu aked, almost pleading. Honey rolled her eyes.

“Of course not. It was…” Honey frowned, then, inexplicably, she glared at Ugan. Ugan returned her gaze incredulously.

“What?” He demanded.

“Not a sound out of you.” She warned. Ugan stared at her, aggrieved. He had yet to say anything, and hadn’t the intention of saying anything. He just held up his hands. Honey returned her attention to Gosetsu, putting her palms on the cool stone of the table. “...It was a marketing ploy.”  
There was a beat of silence.

“A marketing ploy…?” Gosetstu repeated, completely lost. Berry was nodding, and the whispered declaration drew a fit of giggles from Hien. Honey sighed.

“Adventuring is a competitive market. You need to be both skilled and memorable - a pair of Lalafelan adventurer’s named after pastries stuck out in people’s minds.” Honey folded her arms, and gazed about as though daring anyone present to judge her.

Hien just started laughing uproariously.

“My friend!” He choked out, putting his hand on Berry’s shoulder. “My friend, I daresay, had you known how bright your star would shine, you might have chosen a more fitting name!” He slammed his fist on the table, shaking his head. “Oh, but perhaps there is no more fitting name for you, my friend.”

“What’s wrong with Blackberry?” The Warrior of Light asked, pouting.

Ugan snorted.

Honey kicked him in the shin.

As Ugan rubbed his assaulted leg bone, Alphinaud approached the increasingly drunk gathering, a look of careful indifference plastered on his face. Honey nodded to the young man, who looked at his drunk elders with a tired sort of acceptance. Hien was still giggling, while Gosetstu stared into his bottle of sake as though it would hold answers.

“You all seem… lively.” He glanced at the unconscious Salem. “I admit, I wondered if something was amiss. Gosetsu’s voice carries, and he sounded angry.”

“He as not taken the revelatoin of the origin of Blackberry’s name well.” Ugan growled tersely, straightening. Alphinaud blinked at him, and then blanched. 

“W-what? You told them?” He looked between Honey and Blackberry rapidly, the both of which only shrugged. “I haven’t even heard the tale! Please, you must relate it again.”

“But, Alphinaud…” Berry said, face somber. “You already know my name. I’m Blackberry.”

Hien erupted into laughter again as Alphinaud stared askance at the drunk Warrior of Light. Honey put her head down on the table in defeat, and Ugan used the distraction to finally make good his escape. He passed Alisaie as he exited, as she was undoubtedly on her brother’s heels. She gave him a nod.

“If you’re leaving, I must assume the party's just become good.” She remarked, grinning at him cheekily. Ugan scoffed, and waved his hand.

“They’re discussing how Berry came to be known as such.” He told her. She glanced quizzically at the table while Alphinaud pestered Honey for details.

“That explains why he’s so agitated.” Alisaie said, mocking but fond. “The subject is something of an obession for him.”

“I’d have thought you would find the subject equally fascinating.” Ugan pointed out, but she just shrugged, and leaned against the stone wall. 

“He’s probably just named after his favorite jam or something.” She shook her head. “There’s not much mystery to him.”

Ugan chuckled by way of agreement, secretly impressed by her easy deduction and carefree demeanor. He stepped past her to find a quiet place to meditate before the coming battle.

“What about you?” Alisaie called, affectedly casual as she folded her arms. He stopped and gave her a backwards glance. “Ugan’s a strange name for a Raen. Are you not from the Far East?” 

Ugan thought for a moment about how to respond. She sounded disinterested, but he could tell from the patient way she awaited his response that she was keen for an answer. Like her brother, she too had a weather eye for mystery, though the two often found themselves embroiled in different conundrums. He wondered if he should tell her the truth - that Ugan was the name of an unfortunate adventurer that had died, friendless, familyless, and alone in Thanalan on a scorching summer afternoon. That he had claimed the name because an Ugan Thais was expected to assist in the escort of a carriage to Ul’dah. That he had claimed the man’s clothes and belongings as well, as Hydaelyn had deposited him naked and unarmed in the middle of the desert. That he had left the man in a shallow grave, unmarked, and forgotten.

He knew of the man only what the Echo had told him. Hydaelyn had undoubtedly brought him to that time and place so he could take advantage of the circumstance.

It was what it was.

“It’s Thavnairian.” Ugan stated. “Near Eastern, a small island off the coast.”

Alisaie nodded, accepting the half-truth easily, and did not pester him further. Ugan stalked away, deeper into the caverns that made up the House of the Fierce. Names, for the most part, were just that: Names. Blackberry could be called as much, or he could be called Oboro Totoro, or anything else. He would still be powerful, unstoppable, and determined.

A blade by any other name cuts just as deep.


End file.
